Assassin's Heart
by formerAnnie
Summary: An old friend of Fenris and a former slave appears in the Free Marches, twisted by hate and afraid to get too close to anyone. She has tried to bury her pain and the memories that haunt her, but her past will never allow that.
1. Prologue: Runners

Fact: I have too many story ideas right now. I have now become that crazy person writing three stories at once, when I barely have time to write one.

Now that my rant is over, welcome to my Dragon Age 2 story. Since this storyline has a lot to do with Fenris, it is naturally a little darker than my style has tended to be in the past - you have been warned. I have been going through a bit of a rough patch in my life and writing thirty pages of video game extravaganza was the perfect escape. Please enjoy!

Prologue: Runners

Hunters. Here, in Kirkwall. Even in this massive city-state, he still could not lose these lethal followers who wished to return him to Danarius, dead or alive. Generally, they came in smaller groups that he was able to eliminate on his own during the past few years, but this was different. Aside from the group of four he was presently stalking in the moonlight, he knew there to be a much larger crew elsewhere in the city. He had a nagging suspicion that it was because they were guarding someone, not just hunting.

_Danarius_.

Either that, or his former master was simply getting more desperate. Unlikely. Only the night before had he been forced to fight for his life, being chased by…he had lost count of the number of soldiers he had eluded or killed. Had the magister finally come himself to claim the prize?

Checking to make sure they weren't _too _many civilian casualties around – only one unlucky Dwarf – the elf leapt from the rooftop and instantly dispatched the lowest ranking man. Danarius' men were foolish to travel in such small groups. Two more went down easily enough; however, the last one had time for the initial surprise to wear off and put up more of a fight…more meaning an entire six seconds.

The man was on his knees now, unarmed.

"How many more of you are coming?" the fugitive demanded.

The defeated one spat at the victor's foot.

"You can't run forever, slave," he sneered defiantly. "You might as well give up now."

"I have heard that before. Hasn't stopped me yet."

"Soon enough, Danarius'll have at least one of his pets back."

Fenris' blade backed off an inch as his curiosity got the better of him.

"Speak quickly and clearly, or I will make you wish you were never born."

"Freyja. Danarius has plans once he gets her back."

"Danarius always has plans." He cocked his head. "I thought Freyja was still in his service."

"You don't know much, do you, elf?"

That remark was instantly met with bone-crushing blow to the jaw.

"Where is she?"

The soldier spoke quickly.

"Danarius doesn't know for certain, but we've heard rumors that indicate she might be dwelling at the foot of Sundermount on the Northwestern side. But none of our patrols have returned. It's unknown whether they were lost or killed by Freyja or wild animals. We're all afraid to go up there. She wasn't… She's not like she was. Before she left, she…changed. Even I saw it. Danarius…"

Fenris scowled and swiftly beheaded his foe.

"Not clear enough." Movement caught his attention. That small revelation would have to wait. He had Hunters to worry about. "You, Dwarf, what is your name?"

The Dwarf straightened a little from cowering, still eyeing the dead bodies of the Hunters. He could be useful. Fenris' lyrium markings stopped glowing as he relaxed a bit.

"A…Anso. My name is Anso."

"And what is your purpose here, Anso?"

"I…I came with my mother and brother to start a new life. My mother wanted me to take a job sweeping stables but –"

"Loot whatever coin you wish from these corpses, Anso, and then I have a job for you."

"Thank you, but…who are you? Why were these men after you?"

"That is none of your concern," Fenris growled, wiping his blade on the officer's pant leg. He would need help again – a distraction maybe. First, he needed someone to see what was in that hovel he had seen soldiers going in and out of for the past day or two – he had heard something about a chest. Then, attack. Hopefully he had enough coin left to win Anso's temporary loyalty. These men offered no signs of whether Danarius was there or of their number, so he was walking blindly.

* * *

They were back. They couldn't be back; she had just killed the last batch. They shouldn't have tracked her this quickly, unless…

Unless _he _was tracking her himself now. Perhaps it was the lyrium that he could sense. Was he that desperate, at last? She wasn't sure what had possessed her to think that she would ever be free of her master's influence. Her desire for self-preservation had taken her this far, but she wasn't sure how much farther it would take her. She had been on the run for…had it really been a year? Or only a few months?

She had returned from her last scouting venture, having heard news of a few more Tevinter Hunters collecting in Kirkwall to go on a 'hunting' trip. Only a few weeks prior, before she had come to the foot of this mountain, she had met with yet two more troupes of soldiers. But why so many in Kirkwall? The only conclusion: Danarius had finally come. The number of the Hunters had been mysteriously dwindling, though, since her initial run-in, to which she did not object in the least…but it was still strange. Had Danarius moved on already? Why?

With a quiet, despairing sigh, Freyja sat back from her fire pit in the middle of the dilapidated shack and made herself comfortable against the cold wall in her bed of pine needles. She was tired of running. Her rich flaxen hair was a mess of knots and dirt when, for the past seventeen years, it had always been perfectly cleaned and groomed. For once, she missed the exotic, intricate braids that had taken at least an hour a day to produce. Her eyes, once lined with charcoal to bring out their depth, now looked hollow and showed the pain she had always felt (when she wasn't trying to hide it). Before, when she looked in a mirror, she was able to at least pretend that she was a mysterious, beautiful, untouchable creature; but there was nothing to hide the truth, now.

She hardened her heart more than ever to keep out her desire for safety, companionship, and warmth; but what she saw now in her reflection was a bitter, detached thirty-three year old rogue woman. She had known freedom, but this was different. She was on her own in a world far bigger than she had ever imagined. This world was cold and lonely, just like she had trained herself to be over the years. She had always wanted to be alone, but this…running for so long with no hope of sanctuary or release…it was beginning to wear on her. Her life merely consisted of hating, running, and killing. After her only friend had abandoned her three years ago, she was beginning to forget what it was like to trust anyone.

She was able to get a few hours of sleep, but it was soon time to set up her ambush for the Hunters; if they came from Kirkwall, they would be arriving soon. How much longer? Was it worth it?

Freyja stepped outside the cabin a few hours after dawn and went to a large puddle to splash the sleep out of her eyes, which resulted in a five-minute rinse of all exposed flesh when the grime started running into her eyes. She quickly swept her hair back and began securing her weapons. She left the fire still brewing. Let them come.

She watched the thick of the forest from her refuge carefully and waited for her calculations to be rewarded. Sure enough, a high-pitched yelp in the distance alerted her to the Hunters' presence as they hit one of her traps…right on the path she had set for them.

In a flurry of movement, Freyja lit her prepared arrow, burst into the cabin clearing, and waited again. They would be in the trap in just…a few more…steps.

She shot her arrow, just as she had practiced hours earlier and burst forward, daggers in hand. The tar and dried grass she had set instantly blazed, sending the Hunters into a panic. They should have noticed the cut back trees and foliage upon entering that clearing, but the Hunters that had been dispatched before never lived to learn from their mistakes and pass on the warning: Freyja was not just a runaway slave; she was a trained assassin. The gifts given to her by Danarius were now the weapons she used against him.

The rogue took no time to pause upon bolting into the chaos. While the Hunters were still trying to extract themselves from the burning tar, she put enough force into her initial attacked to nearly decapitate the first two. As the fire died, a few of the more intact ones barreled after her; they successfully nicked her leg, but were then gutted. Two more were nursing bad burns and weren't able to reach their weapons in time when she turned on them. The last squealing victim was merely a mercy killing.

After quickly ensuring that the fire was burnt out, Freyja wordlessly turned away from the carnage and walked to a nearby pond to wash away the gore. But a few moments later, she heard her last trap release in the distance.


	2. Ghost

Ghost

"Unfortunately, for this one, we need someone not known as a companion of Hawke. Mik won't tell us anything. He remembers all too well that you used to work for the Red Iron. That lyrium he stashed would fetch us a pretty bounty from the Templars or the black market, if we so chose to just…misplace it rather than give it to the buyer."

"I could talk to him."

"I trust in your interrogation skills, Revaini, but Mik won't talk to any known associates of Hawke."

"Fenris, are you listening? We're trying to figure out a way to make the rest of the fifty sovereigns on our own…not that you should care."

"Easy, Hawke," chided Varric with a wave of his hand. "I think Broody here might have an idea brewing. Or is it just my sunny optimism getting in the way?"

The elf found himself under the scrutiny of his companions and he once again questioned his decision of coming to the Hanged Man this evening. Yes, he owed Hawke a debt for helping him defeat the Tevinter Hunters and sending most of them evacuating, but he wasn't at all pleased to be consorting with this Ferelden warrior, his mage sister, and the collection of other suspicious characters he had attracted.

"I was just thinking..." He mentally shook himself. "It's not a job, but… I think I know someone who could help our effort – someone not associated with our little band. Another pair of hands could go a long way."

"I thought you didn't have any friends," Anders jabbed from his seat before taking another drink. Self-righteous mage…

Fenris snarled.

"I was not aware of her presence until about two weeks ago, just before our meeting. I thought she was still in Tevinter."

"Another escaped slave? Does this one also have a grudge against magic?"

"Anders," Hawke warned. "Please continue, Fenris. Many of the tasks we are being given are rather difficult and we could always use more help."

"As I said, I know someone who could provide assistance. She is a healer and a rogue assassin, so she would be of use to you even after this job. I heard…a rumor that she was living on the Northwestern foot of Sundermount. Every party sent into that area hasn't returned, so we would have to tread with caution. Even though most of the Hunters are gone from the area for now, she will likely still be fearful. I have heard of one or two Hunter parties still tracking something outside the city."

"You trust her?"

"I once trusted her with my life, yes. I have not seen nor heard from her since my escape."

Hawke nodded, convinced. He didn't think it was necessary to ask any more questions for now.

"We'll leave at dawn. I would like to be able to be back in the city before nightfall."

* * *

"So, who is this woman to you?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Come now, elf. Listen to Daisy. You're only making us more curious."

"Is she an old flame perhaps?" Merrill insisted. "I'd love to hear that story."

"She's not an 'old flame'," growled Fenris. "She's an old friend."

"I bet there's more behind it. I see that wistful look in your eyes. So…she was a slave? Ooh! Or maybe it was a forbidden relationship with royalty!"

"Quiet."

The other glanced around the lightly forested landscape. They had already barely evaded an arrow trap a hundred feet back that had shaken the victimized tree to its roots. Those bolts had been thick, strong, intended for killing rather than just maiming.

"I don't hear anything."

"What is it Fenris?" Hawke cut in.

Just before hitting the trap, another hint of danger had come in the form of a man's scream…or squeal, rather.

Merrill cleared her throat nervously.

"Fenris…you _did_ say that she was a friend, right? Wait, where did Varric go?"

The dwarf was nowhere in sight. A short search came up with nothing to indicate where he may have gone. Now, Fenris was left with the chatty elf and the mage-lover. Brilliant.

"If he was taken, we'll find him at our goal. We must be getting close," Hawke concluded, leading the way forward towards a now-visible trail of smoke ahead. The next break in the trees revealed a small party of Tevinter Hunters, all dead – some simply stabbed, others gutted, still others partially decapitated, many with severe burns from the extinguished tar-and-grass fire that was still giving off heat – and none had apparently made it out of the clearing. But, now, all was quiet. The Hunters had said that Freyja had changed. How? She had always been lethal, but there was something in the air… A hate he knew well. "Ahead. There's a cabin. Abandoned, by the looks of it."

"Where is our Dalish friend?"

Hawke looked around suddenly, wide-eyed.

"Did she fall behind? How did I miss it? Great… Now we've lost our mage."

"Pity," grumbled Fenris.

"This is _your _old friend we're talking about, Fenris. Why is she taking our people right from under our noses? And why did she take the mage and not one of us?"

Fenris glanced at his companion. Both of the remaining men were tall, intimidating figures; their friends were easier targets, physically.

"Freyja was never one for brute strength. The others were within her abilities to snatch."

"Clever girl."

The elf scowled after the other warrior as he took the lead again. Freyja would not even be remotely interested in the blond-haired, brown-eyed human.

* * *

"Throw your weapons down now or your friends die!" The female voice came from somewhere around the cabin. She had a strong tone and a Tevinter accent.

"You sure your friend won't kill us?" Hawke inquired as he slowly removed his sword and shield.

"I can't be sure of anything," Fenris replied. "It has been over three years since I have seen her. According to the Hunters, she…changed."

"Next time, Fenris, give me the details _before _we go charging into deep water."

The elf smirked before stabbing his two-handed sword into the earth and following his companion into the cabin.

The house was rather dilapidated. The roof had caved in around the middle and, aside from a three-legged wooden table and three chairs, all of the furniture had been pilfered. A fire with a spit and a bed of pine needles and moss were the only new additions. The front door dangled from its hinges and it took some effort for Hawke to get it open.

Varric and Merrill were tied to two of the chairs, unconscious, with their weapons propped up against the wall behind them. Sitting on the backwards third chair was a woman with long hair concealing most of her face in the dim. She wore black leather armor and held two long daggers loosely in her hands that dangled over the chair back; a bow and quiver hung over her shoulders.

"When I decided to confront my fate here, you are not what I was expecting," she commented dryly. Her voice was honeyed and controlled. Hawke could tell that she was noting their every movement and glance. "These are your friends?"

"They are," Hawke replied. She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice a fraction.

"I was not speaking to you, Ferelden."

The man was taken aback, but impressed. Fenris stepped forward.

"There is no need to hold them, Freyja. They are not here to harm you."

"Who are you to tell me this, _little wolf_?" She stood slowly and replaced one of the daggers in her belt. The wood, glass, and other refuse on the floor _crunched _under her boot as she moved into the light coming through the roof. "You who left me to the mercies of an all-powerful madman. I thought _he _would show up, but instead I get you." She sighed. "I suppose it's for the best. I didn't stand a chance against him."

She was about as tall as Merrill, but she was more built. Her hair was a thick, wavy dark blond and her long-lashed eyes were the color of mist; her firm lips seemed to never smile…at least so far. Then there were the markings.

"You speak of Danarius?" Hawke asked, ignoring the warning look he got from Fenris.

Freyja appraised the other human a moment.

"Indeed… Have you met him?"

"Only once, a few weeks ago. When I first met Fenris, the magister was in Kirkwall to try reclaiming his lost slave. We believe that he returned to Tevinter after he realized that he faced defeat."

"Then I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude, for Danarius sought to reclaim me as well. I was afraid that he was still in the city, goading his soldiers on in the hunt."

"Is that so?"

Freyja's gaze lingered on the borderline flirting man.

"I will untie your companions; they were not harmed beyond a few bruises. We will discuss this further in the light."

"I actually was going to ask if you wished to join us in Kirkwall. We are in the process of raising funds for an expedition to the Deep Roads for some treasure hunting."

"Foolish move… Yes. I think I will join your company."

Varric and Merrill awoke a few moments later with plenty of questions that Freyja was clearly not intending to answer at the time. Hawke had questions of his own. As they walked from the dwelling, he noted that the woman had lyrium markings like Fenris, though she seemed to only possess them on her face – a thin vine of it that came from the right side of her forehead and looped around her ear and down her neck – and forearms and hands. They seemed more for show than for granting much extra power. Was she another bodyguard of Danarius?

She was human, but Hawke couldn't tell from her appearance where she hailed from originally. It was difficult to decide her age, but she couldn't have been much older than thirty. Her skin was lightly bronzed and her face was softly angled – beautiful, but something about it added to the intimidation factor; he couldn't pinpoint it. She seemed constantly in a state of fight-or-flight – never relaxed. There was something refined, yet wild about her. Despite her clear past connection with Fenris, she hadn't made a single effort since the cabin to talk directly to him.

Finally, Merrill decided to do what no one else wanted to do.

"So, Freyja, were you a slave like Fenris? I don't mean to seem nosy, but I can't help but be curious about you. You're the first person I've met connected with him who hasn't tried to kill us. Well, not directly, at least."

Freyja actually smiled a ghost of a smile at the chatty woman, but then it was gone and replaced by confusion and frustration.

"I was a slave. But I was not born a slave."

"Were you Danarius' bodyguard with Fenris?"

"Yes. Before Fenris."

"So, you were probably close. You and Fenris."

"He was…my friend."

The stranger stared ahead and quickened her pace, cutting off more questions. Hawke looked at Fenris, but he got nothing from the elf's expression other than the usual brooding. What was their story?

* * *

"Welcome to the Hanged Man, sunshine – my unofficial home," the Dwarf announced. By the time they reached Kirkwall, it was nearly nightfall, thanks to the wild animals and gang members they had encountered during their trek. Freyja had already proven to be an able fighter and Varric was eager to start digging up stories about her. "I have a bone to pick with the manager…be right back." Hawke and Merrill, meanwhile, went off to break up a bar fight, leaving the former slaves to order their drinks alone.

Freyja took a swig of the house swill while scanning the area for danger; Fenris did the same, but then took the opportunity to study his old companion-at-arms. She looked…unsettled.

"You've changed, you know," she suddenly announced. "You're older, more suspicious." She took another swig and grimaced at the offensive flavor. "I didn't think I would ever have considered the old you to be naïve, but I see you've learned a lesson or two."

"I learned the value of freedom: Priceless. Danarius would chase me halfway around the world to rob me of it. You have changed as well. I thought, all this time, that you were still in his service."

"I was already unhappy as a slave. When you left, I was…" She finished her mug and signaled for another, thinking of how to end her sentence. Then, she smirked. "I was bored."

As Freyja walked away to find a seat in the corner, Fenris couldn't help but study her. She looked very much like she had three years ago – the lyrium markings, the blonde hair, the triangle of freckles on her right shoulder – but other things were different: the barely hidden look of the hunted and an air of fiery defiance that he had never realized was there…he recognized these things in himself as well.

The other newer addition to the club then sidled up to the woman with her own drink and leaned against the wall in her usual seductive manner. All of her focus was on Freyja and, for once, she ignored the nearby elf.

"So. You're the new fish in the pond."

The other rogue eyed her peer – her usual determination of a threat.

"And you are?"

"The name's Isabela…formerly Captain Isabela. I joined Hawke's little entourage a couple weeks back. He helped me out with a problem and I sort of owe him now."

Freyja grunted and sipped her drink.

"Freyja."

"That's it? No story attached that?" Isabela, refusing to give up, sat down on the bench right beside the blonde. "Oh, come _on_! Fenris is hanging around you like a sad dog…" Fenris snorted an objection. "…you have those markings, you have a tattoo like the ones from my country, and, well, you're new."

Isabela…the little… Wait, tattoo?

"Your country?" Freyja's interest had been snared, idle though it may have seemed. Now, both women were acting like Fenris didn't exist. "You are from Rivain?"

"Indeed. Do you mind?" Freyja slowly and cautiously moved her hair fully away from the back of her neck. The black ink drawing above her armor neckline couldn't have been wider than an inch and a half. There was a linked U-shaped chain and cuffs with two birds of prey flying out of the chain on its right and left, and what looked like a swallow coming from the top. "The work is exquisite. You must have paid a high price for that work. Small as it is, it's quite intricate."

Freyja let the mousy hair fall back and stared into her drink. Her last words of the conversation were quiet and begrudging.

"I…saved the woman's life and she owed me. I…told her my story and…she just did it." She seemed glad when Hawke appeared at their table.

"Freyja, if you don't mind, I'd like to brief you on the job we have in mind for you."

"Is it dangerous?"

"It's not supposed to be, but probably."

"Does it involve an assassination?"

"Um…no."

"Too bad. What is it?"

"There's a noble – an old contact of Varric's – who has some lyrium stashed away, and he wants to get it out of his hands before some official discovers he has it. He could get in big trouble. He wants it transported to a location outside Kirkwall to meet with a buyer…and he's willing to pay good money for it. Unfortunately, I have a reputation for dabbling in the illegal and he refuses to meet with anyone linked with me in public to discuss the details. That's where you come in. He's having a gathering at his estate here in Kirkwall and you are to meet with him there, get the details and location of the goods, and get out without any of his more prominent guests getting suspicious."

"I've had worse." Freyja then paused, suddenly. "Is this 'gathering' a formal social event?"

"Yes, why?"

She briefly made eye contact with Isabela, who shrugged.

"I think a bath is in order. I think I may still have partial entrails decorating my armor."


	3. Reputation

Really short, I know. But the next chapter is long enough to make up for it. :)

Reputation

This party was pointless – a bunch of high society snobs who were only there to steal secrets and eat the free food. Why did nobles put themselves through that torture? Freyja prided herself on her covert skills, but she preferred crawling through the sewers to this house of facades. She had trained herself in pushing away any sort of attachments for so long that she no longer enjoyed gatherings like this; she had at least been able to pretend she was having a good time at Danarius' assemblies, but she took no pleasure in pointless socialization any more.

It did not take her long to locate her contact, the host of the gathering. He was standing in the foyer with three of his 'friends', laughing in a nasally tone that made her skin crawl, especially when his actual speaking voice turned out to be pleasantly rich. She painted on a brilliant smile upon joining the gaggle. Her presence was instantly noted. Freyja had bathed, acquired a rather fetching gown, and turned herself back into an exotic beauty with charcoal around her eyes and a wax and plant dye concoction that made her lips a brilliant dark red. Her silky hair was pulled back from her face and cascaded down her back and shoulders. Just as she intended, she was receiving more appraisals than the women present could stand.

"Who might you be?" a haughty-looking Templar cooed, eyeing her up-and-down. Their host was already looking uncomfortable. "I have never seen you at one of these gatherings before."

"I recently arrived in Kirkwall from Rivain and Ser Mik was kind enough to invite me," she replied with a coy and refined smile.

"You don't look like a Rivaini, though. You sound like an Imperial."

"I am not originally from Rivain, no. I tend to get bored with staying in one place; when I do, I relocate."

"This was a bad time to be relocating, m'lady. Less than a year ago, we had refugees from the Blight pouring into our city; it nearly burst at the seams. Even now, when it's over, we still have refuse clogging up Lowtown and Darktown."

"Pity," she noted with barely any concern. "That does not matter to me, though. I managed to find one of the smaller houses in Hightown that suits my needs."

"The Viscount has been trying to clean up the mess, but we have other problems…like the Blighted mages causing more trouble by the day."

"Renold, leave the politics at the door," Mik grumbled. "M'lady, can I interest you in a drink and some company that isn't only interested in the growling of the city?"

"Yes, I think I'd like that," Freyja laughed moving away with the contact. "I'm not willing to dive into such discussions quite yet."

Once the woman had some spiced wine in her hand and was in a quiet corner, Mik lowered his voice.

"I did not invite you. Are you Varric's friend?"

"Indeed." Her mask of merriment was replaced by the watchfulness of an assassin. "I hear you need some goods transferred out of the city."

"Yes. I was able to get my hands on some merchandise that someone from the underground is willing to pay a pretty penny for. You and your cohorts get ten percent of my profit, and I'll forget I ever met you."

"Twenty percent."

"Fifteen, and I'll make sure the City Guard is otherwise occupied."

"You think I'm that foolish? Twenty percent or you can kiss your _profit _goodbye."

"I could report your mage friends to the Templars easily without drawing any attention to myself, you know?"

Freyja's smile did not reach her eyes.

"And I could kill you right now and be gone before you fell to the ground. Trust me, I would not be at a loss in the least."

Mik's lips twitched in distaste.

"You have yourself a deal. Now, the goods are in a storage facility in the southeast…"

* * *

"Found the coin?"

"Indeed I did. And we should have enough to almost get us to the fifty sovereigns once we sell the lyrium on the Black Market."

"When we give Ser Mik his coin, let's just leave out the part where we were attacked by his buyers, killed them all, and took the goods for ourselves. What was your final tally, sunshine?"

"Varric," Bethany scoffed suddenly, "were you and Freyja competing on how many of those men you killed?"

"What's the matter? It's just a…harmful game. Your tally, my fellow rogue?"

Freyja began letting her voluminous hair out of its confining braid as she replied steadily,

"Does the leader count as two?"

"Still only counts as one."

"In that case…six."

"Blast it! A tie. You know we'll have to make that up, right?"

"Indeed."

"Maybe in the Deep Roads? You are coming with us, aren't you?"

"It is Hawke's decision, in the long run, but I would prefer to stay behind and start looking for employment opportunities. I don't see much use in a giant tomb for me."

"Oh, come on! Think of the adventure! And the treasure we find would probably set you up for life."

"I'm not really interested in having excess amounts of coin to revel in a life of comfort and complacency."

"You'd still need to find a place to live."

She brushed off the comment.

"That does not concern me."

"Well, it should. I know we just met a few days ago, but you're one of this company now. I'll pull a few strings and get you a temporary room at the Hanged Man for now. Maybe you could live in that mansion Fenris has been squatting in ever since we chased the Magister out of town."

She grunted is dissatisfaction and walked on.

* * *

"Here is your coin, Ser Mik. You will no longer have to worry about that contraband."

"And the leader of the group?"

"They practically attacked us on sight. Killing him was easy."

"Excellent. Well, my dear, if anyone asks for assassin, I know where to send them. Here is the extra coin I promised."

"And…?"

"And if I ever hear of any Imperial movement in the city, I will notify you immediately."

"Good doing business with you," the rogue concluded grimly, exiting the doorway of the mansion and disappearing into the night.


	4. Guardian

Guardian

The Deep Roads had been successful, financially. But Varric had lost his brother to betrayal. Hawke had lost his sister to the Darkspawn. Fenris and the Dwarf had been there with him for Bethany's last moments, poor girl. Emotionally, it was a disaster. Still, the Hawke family was now set up for life back in their ancestral home. The family now had all the money and position for Hawke to continue his preferred mercenary lifestyle. His former companions continued to accompany him when called upon, including Freyja; but he still had much to learn, even three years after the expedition.

* * *

"Freyja?"

"I see them," the woman responded from behind. She swung her horse around and shot the three archers pursuing them in quick succession before catching up again. Hawke was glad he brought the strange rogue along for this task. It was a simple retrieval of some stolen merchandise, but nothing was actually _simple _when it came to the Coterie's involvement. "You're injured."

"Nothing that can't wait," he grunted, glancing at the graze wound from an arrow in his arm. Freyja had proven herself to be a capable healer. While her lyrium markings were not as impressive as Fenris', the ones on her arms did allow her to stick her arm partially through people. She utilized that ability last year when Merrill had acquired an arrow through her shoulder during a quest. "We need to get away from the Wounded Coast first."

After a hard ride, they decided they were a safe distance and pulled to the side of the rode. Freyja didn't even bother dismounting. She walked her steed right up next to Hawke's, opened up her saddlebag, and started cleaning his wound with the supplies inside. Her blue-grey eyes occasionally flickered up, constantly aware of everything. Her thick hair was a few shades lighter than he had first thought upon meeting her – a bath had taken care of that – and her nose reminded him of a bird of some sort. It was rare for her to start a conversation, even with Fenris. She seemed to care about him, but Hawke guessed that there was an unforgiven grudge that neither of them had yet confronted, even after three years of being in each other's company on and off.

"You never talk of your sister," she suddenly said, wrapping some bandaging around Hawke's muscular arm. "I did not know her well, but I know she meant a lot to you."

The setting sun caught the lyrium on her face that twisted around her right eye.

"Do you have any family back in Tevinter? Or did the lyrium binding cause you to lose your memory like Fenris?"

She shook her head and began repacking her supplies.

"I didn't have the lyrium tattooed all over my body – just around my arms and face. While it was the most painful experience I can recall, it was…not nearly as traumatizing for me as it was for Fenris…but Danarius could have erased my memory if he so chose." When she prodded her horse forward once more, Hawke thought she was dropping the subject, as was common, but she spoke still. Was she finally coming out of her shell, perhaps? "I have no family, Hawke."

"What happened?" Was he overstepping his boundaries?

"I had a sister too, once."

That was all.

* * *

"Hawke, another round for the blonds!"

"I don't think so, Varric," Freyja chuckled. "I make a point of never getting drunk. I don't like losing control."

"But you're among friends, m'lady. Let loose a little."

"Again thank you, but no."

"I'll have one for you, then. In the meantime, I've been able to dig up some dirt on all of the members of our company – enough to start spinning some good tales, at least – but I have yet to start any about you."

"Me? Why would you want to tell a tale about me?"

"You're being too modest, angel. You're a fighter, a healer, a former slave, and an assassin – yes, I've noticed the solo jobs you've been taking on the side. You knew the old Fenris. You were a slave for years, had lyrium tattooed on you, escaped, and suddenly decided to tag along with our merry gang when it promised you could make some money. Were you born a slave or is there some epic story behind that?"

Freyja closed her eyes, leaned back in her seat in the Hanged Man, and ran her fingers through her hair. Fenris watched her closely.

"We were traveling with my mother in Tevinter when I was sixteen, and we were ambushed by raiders. My little sister and I had been trained by the people of the mountains where we lived, and we knew how to fight. We had been hidden from the Imperium and its cruel ways…and we hadn't even known it. But we were overwhelmed…not without taking out over half of the company first. Their leader finally came forward; I guess he was looking for our people to learn how they fought and stayed a secret…I didn't know the details; he obviously didn't like people hiding under the Imperium's nose. As soon as I saw those chains coming toward my mother, I struck down three more of his men. He was…_impressed_. I was foolish. I told him to take me and leave my family alone. And he _agreed_."

Merrill leaned forward in fascination.

"Then what?"

"He shackled me and ordered his men to kill my mother and sister right in front of me. He told me I could stay in his service or tell him the secrets of my people. I had nothing left but the secret of where they were. Even though I didn't know why, I knew they wanted to remain hidden. That is how I became Danarius' slave. I was a hostage in order to protect a clan that I hadn't even realized were outlaws. But, my sacrifice turned into a twisted relationship of power and abuse that bound me to my master in a way that no threats could. Funny how that works."

"From what I hear," Isabela chimed in with her usual slur, "Danarius was quite the 'beat you into submission' type."

"He was," the woman said quietly. "I was a young teenager who never had a chance. I thought I was doing it to protect my family, but he wouldn't even let me have that. He saw my talents and wanted to possess me. So that's what he got. Before I knew it, I was his _trusted_ bodyguard and he had no reason to fear me. But I still hated him."

"When did you get the fancy white tattoos? I just find them fascinating."

"When Fenris received his own markings, Danarius decided to…reward me as well."

Varric leaned forward.

"I sense a story there, as well."

Freyja's eyes flickered to meet Fenris'. The elf's expression softened at the memory of their first meeting that he could recall.

"Another time, perhaps. I should call it a night."

"I'll join you," Fenris jumped in, taking the opportunity as it presented itself. Once they were outside, he inquired, "Where have you taken up residence? You always disappear."

"I haven't. I usually camp somewhere in or outside Kirkwall…whatever strikes my fancy. I've gotten the reputation of an assassin and don't like staying in one place. Varric lets me stash away my valuables with him. When the weather is inclement during the winter months, Merrill, Isabela, or Aveline offer me a roof for however long I want. Usually not Aveline, though; she lectures me about setting down some roots."

Fenris was taken aback. He didn't think he would find anyone more reluctant than him to settle down anywhere.

"My mansion has many rooms. You could have asked. It's been three years since you came to Kirkwall."

She shook her head and leaned against the wall with one foot propped up.

"I can't shake the feeling that Danarius could come back any day and I won't be able to resist returning to him. I can't risk any attachments."

"Freyja… I've heard that excuse from you before. At least take a room in my mansion. You can even move to a different room every night, if you like. Just get off the streets. It's the least I can do."

She thought about it for several moments.

"All right, Fenris, but don't expect anything. You've caused me enough trouble."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Fenris couldn't help but smile a little. No wonder Freyja had been avoiding everyone when they weren't on quests; she had been in this delusion of continuing her runaway life and didn't want anyone else to know. There was something quite nice about being able to banter with his former companion without worrying about a master around the corner trying to listen for something to use against them. He liked her company. Despite still having a difficult time transitioning to being a freeman, he could see the changes in her. Her personality was much, much stronger. And he recognized the hate she carried with her as his own, though she generally refused to talk about it. Although, even when he first met the woman, she was always dangerous. Their relationship had always been mixed signals.

_Something about leftover lyrium. That's what he had heard at least. As the elf drifted in and out of consciousness on the hot sheets of the cot, his flesh on fire still from the freshly imbedded lyrium, he could hear a woman's screams. They were tortured, sobbing screams, like the sound of someone who was losing an emotional battle as well as a physical one. He felt like he should feel something for those screams. Did he know the bearer? At the moment, he didn't know anything. He knew he was an elf. His hair was an odd, blinding white. He had fresh silvery tattoos all over his body that were agonizing to touch – he did remember the pain of getting them. He was lying on a cot in a small, dark room with no windows and no other furnishings beside a second cot and a washbasin in the corner._

_Something was different. The screams had stopped. That hadn't taken as long as he expected, though he didn't know how long his own torture had lasted. Next, they would douse her with freezing cold water to be sure the lyrium didn't start oozing back out of her carved skin. He remembered though that it was mostly magic responsible for the…procedure. _

_The next time the elf awoke, someone else was in the room on the other cot. He carefully shifted so that he could see her. He was pretty sure this newcomer was the source of the earlier screaming. She was unconscious, thank the Maker, but the pain of her fresh wounds was causing her to sweat through the clothing she still had, which included nothing more than a sleeveless white tunic that reached her mid-thighs. The only markings he could see were on her forearms and hands, and down the right side of her face, disappearing under the tunic. Occasionally, a soft whimper would escape when she exhaled._

_Since, clearly, no one was going to come help him any time soon, the elf forced himself to sit up and slowly make his way to the washbasin. Luckily, the water was fresh, so he was able to quench his thirst before returning to his cot and settling to watch his roommate. She was, admittedly, quite beautiful. Perhaps twenty years old, making her a couple years older than him. Who was she?_

_Again, he dozed off._

_The elf didn't realize the woman was awake until four guards burst into the room and roughly grabbed ahold of him. They were trying to force him towards the door when someone suddenly raised their voice._

"_Stop!" They froze and the elf turned to find the woman standing tall, staring down the guards with an icy glare. Hadn't she just been screaming in agony for mercy only a short while ago? Her resilience was impressive._

"_We were told to bring him before Danarius."_

"_Were you now?" she sneered. She continued quickly and clearly, with command as if she wasn't still trembling from pain. "You're going to manhandle the master's new bodyguard? If you're not careful with him now, he may just decide to snap your neck later to save Danarius the trouble…just like I will if you do not bring me my clothes and go back to your patrol where you belong." The leader scowled, but released the elf in exaggerated surrender. He retreated around the corner and returned a moment later with a small pile of carefully folded clothing. "And I expect my armor is being cleaned properly? You may go."_

_Once the guard was gone, the woman let out a satisfied sniff and unfolded the leather boots, grey leggings, a black belt, and a soft maroon tunic with long sleeves and silver-threaded lining. She slowly proceeded to don this attire, hissing occasionally when the fabric brushed against her new scars. During this process, the elf dared to speak._

"_How…how do you command such respect over them?"_

_She chuckled darkly._

"_Don't get any ideas, lad. You and I are merely slaves. I have simply built up enough favor with the master and intimidation to be able to get away with some things."_

_The word greatly troubled the elf, but it seemed quite familiar. It slipped easily from his tongue._

"_Slaves?"_

_Something, either sympathy or just pain, floated across her face, and her voice softened._

"_Yes, slaves. But we're special. You and I are Daniarius' bodyguards."_

"_Why would we protect a slave master? What loyalty would we have?"_

_He didn't know who this Danarius was, aside from an image of the person who had overseen the lyrium tattoos. With her back turned to him, the woman sighed._

"_Protect him, and be rewarded and cared for; or disobey, and regret it. That is why. You will learn in time. Your…experience took your memories, I take it. Before I was –" She glanced at her own markings. "_Before_, Danarius told me that I am to help you, train you. I will do that and nothing more. Understand? I didn't ask to almost be replaced by some kitchen elf."_

"_Replaced?"_

_She walked to the door, bunching her hand into a fist, testing it. _

"_Almost. Come, slave. Danarius will be waiting. Patience is not a gift he possesses."_

* * *

"_Why did he torture you? You didn't do anything wrong."_

_The two slaves, left to their own devices, were sitting in a dark dining room with a large fire roaring nearby. The young woman sat at the head of the table with her feet propped up on its surface. An occasional tremor reminded them of the magical shock she had just endured, but her focus was seemingly enthralled in the flames._

"_Danarius wanted to show you what happens if you displease him before you got any ideas. He is a very powerful mage. Do not toy with him." She scrubbed a hand through the knotted braids. "This has been a bad day."_

_The elf grunted and sat down in one of the other chairs._

"_At least I know my name now."_

"_Fenris is what Danarius has chosen to call you. It is probably not the name you were born with."_

"_I never caught your name."_

"_Danarius calls me Freyja."_

"_And your real name?"_

_Freyja finally looked at him, seemingly stunned that Fenris bothered at all, and perhaps a little offended._

"_Why do you care about any details about me? I told that I am to train you and that our relationship ends at that. Why do you persist in asking these questions?"_

"_I'm curious about you, I admit. Since I know nothing about my past life, I wish to learn everything I can about my present one. Since you and I will apparently be spending a sizeable amount of time together, I wish to know you better. It's clear that we do not associate much with…anyone, really."_

_Freyja sighed and droned,_

"_We're in a twilight zone between the lowest slave and nobility. We do not associate with the other slaves because we are above them, and because any connection we make could put them in danger. We do not associate with freemen or nobility because we are slaves; we are property, not people…and we are dangerous because we protect the magister."_

"_A necessarily lonely existence."_

_She nodded and stared into the fire once more._

"_Lara."_

"_What?"_

"_My real name was Lara. I have not spoken or heard it in a long time, and you would be wise to keep it to yourself, Fenris."_

* * *

Fenris found Freyja in the library the next morning. She had started a fire and was curled up on a couch with a book. He didn't need to announce his presence for her to know he was there.

"You know, in the bedroom I chose last night, I think I counted about fifty-thousand dust bunnies. You'd better be careful how long I stay or I may just start cleaning."

He ignored the comment and sat down beside her to watch the fire.

"I trust you slept well." He then noticed that Freyja wasn't even looking at the book – more like through it. "Is something troubling you?"

"I went out to get some breakfast this morning. I ended up pickpocketing one of the patrons when I saw what was sticking out of his pocket." She handed him a piece of paper. "I and those traveling with me will have to tread lightly for a while, it seems."

Though Fenris couldn't read, he could still see the sketch on the flyer, and he knew a bounty when he saw one.

"This doesn't seem like a move that Danarius would make."

"When I got away from Danarius, it wasn't exactly easy for me to escape from Tevinter. It took me a while to find a ship willing to take me from Vyrantium to Rivain. The captain – Toran – seemed to think he could do whatever he wanted and…I allowed him to think that for a while. But, with rough waters and talk of mutiny for part of the voyage, my coin wasn't good enough for him anymore. When I bailed, it was with a word of encouragement to the crew to revolt…and I think he was eventually tossed overboard. Unfortunately, this man has money, influence, and anger enough to chase after me with an unofficial bounty. Didn't think I'd see him again, though. The man can certainly hold a grudge. I'll give him that."

"Do you think he's in Kirkwall?"

She shrugged lazily.

"Since he probably lost his ship, yes. I just have to kill him before he kills me. Think Hawke would be willing to help? He owes me a favor or two by now."

Fenris agreed begrudgingly.

"You've changed, Freyja, but I still can't pinpoint how."

She stared hard at the book.

"I learned a very valuable lesson. I used to let people get too close and Danarius never failed to use them again me. Now, he can't touch me."

* * *

"Will this fellow have any backup do think? With this group, I've come to expect the bad guys to have backup," Varric quipped as their party approached the Dockside hovel.

"If this man of yours has money and influence, why is he staying here?" added Anders.

Freyja scowled at both men.

"Toran either spent all his money obsessing over this bounty, or he's simply trying to keep a low profile."

"Or it's a trap," corrected the dwarf.

"Thank you for your invaluable insight, Varric…"

"Any time, sunshine."

As they all somewhat suspected, their arrival was anticipated. At least half a dozen hired assassins – or thugs, rather – were inside the hovel, weapons ready. Freyja amazed, as always. There was a good reason she was steadily employed for assassinations, goods recovery, and other covert objectives. Even in the tight quarters, she could appear behind her target and stab them in the back before they knew what hit them. And she wasn't just sneaky – she was powerful. With her natural strength and utilization of her markings, she would simply punch through someone's chest with her dagger, completely taking them out of the picture.

While she wasn't as formidable as Fenris, she was an asset that Hawke hoped to never lose. At least, for a while. However much she refused to talk about her feelings or the past, even he saw how she looked at Fenris when he was otherwise occupied. Maybe the two former slaves could help each other. If only they would open up a little.

When the last hired hand was down, Hawke walked into an adjoining room to find Freyja holding her daggers at the throat of an imposing Rivaini man. Already, she was slowly digging her blade into the man's shoulder, driving him to the ground. Hawke had never her seen her look so…vindictive. Anders was standing beside her with his hands out in a show of surrender. Apparently, the others had missed something.

"Freyja, you know I do not stand for any injustice, and what this man tried to do to you is unforgiveable. But he doesn't deserve to be tortured to death."

She gritted her teeth.

"Yes, he does. He deserves to be skinned alive and have his heart ripped from his chest."

"At least give him a quick death."

"He added to an existence of living death while I was on his ship, and he tried to kill me. Why should I be merciful?"

This was where Hawke stepped in. Anders wasn't exactly the expert on showing mercy.

"Freyja, if we don't show mercy, then we're no better than the evils we fight against. Rather than giving them a taste of their own medicine, we should act the way we want to be treated."

"How has that fared for you, Hawke? Not well at all. If this scum is after me now, what's stopping Danarius from coming? I won't go back. I can't."

"This man isn't connected with Danarius. I'm sure we can convince him to stay silent concerning your whereabouts."

The lack of remorse in the captain's eyes was not helping Hawke's case. He couldn't guarantee that word of her location wouldn't reach her former master through this whelp if he was released.

"What do you suggest? Should I cut out his tongue? Not enough mercy for you?"

Desperate, Hawke threw one last barrage.

"If you reduce yourself to such cruelty, than you're no better than Danarius."

With a snarl, Freyja flicked her dagger from Toran's bleeding neck. As he staggered away, she called,

"If you wag your tongue, slave or not, I will find you! And I will kill you."

In silence, the woman ripped a piece of cloth from one of the dead thugs and began cleaning her weapons.

"This is why you asked me to not bring Fenris."

"I didn't want him to see me weak, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to resist the urge to make that man suffer as much as possible."

"Well, you did the right thing in letting him live. If he does tip off Danarius, I think I speak for all of us when I say that we will stand with you. You are not property to be reclaimed."

"Does that apply to Fenris as well? I can't help but notice that you two don't exactly see eye-to-eye."

"That elf can attack my defense of mages all he wants, but slavery is wrong, whatever label you put on it. Now, I believe we have a meeting to attend with the Arishok on our docket tomorrow. Best get some sleep."

As Hawke and Varric walked away, Anders remained behind with the woman.

"Not interested in sleep, I assume?" asked the abomination. "I can always use a hand in the clinic, if you want to get your mind off of things."

"Why would I want to assist a runaway mage?" the still-angry dame hissed, wiping some blood from her leather armor.

"Because you still care about people. You didn't want Fenris coming here because you didn't want word of his location traveling with yours if one of the men here got away. You can play the hardened killer all you want, but you still have a heart under all that leather."

"Indeed?" the rogue smirked, approaching Anders. He had hit a nerve and she was trying to hide it. "I don't believe I've stepped foot in your clinic for a while." Anders stared at her, waiting. Finally, she threw her hands up in the air. "Fine! You caught me. I was protecting him, just like I've been protecting him since the day he became Danarius' bodyguard. I can't help it! I've tried hating him from the very start. I've worked tirelessly to push everyone away so Danarius can't use them against me. But, no matter how hard I try, I can't get Fenris out of my head. I'm afraid of hurting him, but I want to kill him at the same time."

* * *

"How have you _not_ killed Fenris by now? I have imagined it many times and I have not known him nearly as long as you." Anders then cleared his throat upon seeing the elf warrior standing in the doorway. "Fenris! Been a while since you've been to Darktown."

Fenris ignored the mage and stalked over to where Freyja was rewrapping a head wound.

"Why was I not invited on this venture?"

Freyja shushed him and led him outside the clinic.

"We had a warrior, a mage, a proficient rogue, and myself. You were not needed for this one, Fenris."

"You told me of the dangers and I assumed that I was to come along to help. Instead, I have to hear about your bloody encounter from the Dwarf when he sauntered into the Hanged Man."

"It was for your own good, Fenris."

"_Venhedis! _Don't you _ever _assume that you know what's good for me!"

She snorted.

"It's worked so far." The elf's markings flashed to life in his anger. She waved him aside. "I'll tell you about any more personal vendettas I dig up, if that makes you feel better. We should head back to the mansion before too many gangs come out to play."

In uncertain silence, the duo left. Anders shook his head in bewilderment. Some day, those two were going to snap. He sensed that there was something more that Freyja wasn't telling the elf, but he also felt that that day was far off in the future.


	5. Damaged

Here I am on vacation in Canada...updating my story. So far, this has been an easy-coming fanfic, for some reason. The structure of Dragon Age 2 allows me to do plenty of flashbacks, side conversations, etc. Anyway, enjoy.

Damaged

"Thank you for agreeing to come on this venture. Merrill and I are quite capable of taking care of ourselves, but it's nice to not be looking over our shoulders all the time while we look for these plants…especially since there might be a few followers of the Qun hanging around with a grudge about Hawke killing their leader."

"Don't mention it," the assassin drawled, slowly shredding a dandelion as she scanned the horizon on the coast.

"It's also nice to not have to worry about Hawke trying to pick a bunch of poisonous berries. He has good intentions, but he should stick to swordplay."

Merrill giggled while dumping an armload of herbs in her basket.

"He is a bit clueless when it comes to herb lore, isn't he?" the elf noted. She then cocked her head in thought. "Freyja, I've been wondering…we've only been hearing bits and pieces of your past, and I've been trying to respect that, but… Fenris is always so hostile toward magic; he hates it with a passion I usually only see in the Templars. You have an obvious distrust, but you're still willing to befriend and assist us…yet, as far as we know, both you and Fenris were slaves of Danarius for years. Why the difference?"

The rogue took a moment to dig up a few roots, clean them off, and hand them to Anders.

"I…" She stared off into the afternoon sky, watching the clouds for a few seconds. "Magic gave me these bloody markings that pain me every day. The power and the terror caused by magic is what originally bound me to a brutal master for fourteen years. When I think of magic, I have to fight back a surge of panic, resentment, and misery that flutters in my chest, though I know not why exactly. But, in reality, it's the prison of my own mind that kept me a hostage for so long. If I let my hate for magic rule me, then how can I enjoy life? I can hate the pain, Danarius, my own weakness, and even Fenris all I want, but those are enemies I can imagine at least facing, if not overcoming. I'm not in favor of a mage uprising, but neither do I appreciate the constant harassment from the Templars."

"Well," Anders chirped, "it's good to have you, Freyja. Whatever your past, I'm glad you can see beyond it."

Freyja suddenly went rigid as she listened for something. She then bolted down the hill and into the bushes. The mages pursued and quickly found her. The rogue squatted down in front of an old basket covered by a roughly woven cloth. She was unnaturally still, and they soon discovered why.

Inside the basket, now visible, was a large calico cat curled up with several kittens – all dead and already stiffening.

"I wonder how long they were out here," Merrill thought regretfully, "…and what sort of cruel person could just leave them out here to die."

Anders just looked on in tortured silence. He had always liked cats. Freyja's voice was particularly guarded and careful…for her, a sure sign that this had affected her.

"Many people right now can't even afford to feed a bunch of cats their scraps…but this is no alternative to watching them suffer. Drowning them would have been more humane."

"None of it is humane," the former Warden growled.

But then, in the silence, a muffled squeak could be heard. With widening eyes, Freyja carefully moved two of the dead kittens aside. Sure enough, though it was incredibly weak, there was a live grey kitten with fur softer than fleece.

"Mags!" Freyja blurted out, looking terrified of her outburst just as quickly. With a look of bewilderment, the woman scooped up the animal and held it close.

"You…know this kitten?" Anders asked carefully. Freyja shook her head frantically.

"No…can you heal her, Anders?"

"I'll do what I can, I assure you. It'll be all right. But why did you call it 'Mags'?"

"I… I don't…" Freyja, without explanation, seemed to be losing her grasp on her hard-worked stoicism. "I don't know. Just heal her, please. Of all things…a cat."

"All right. Just…let me see. Do you plan to keep her?" Her dead serious stare was enough. "Fenris is going to _love _this."

* * *

"A cat." Fenris' nose flared in his distaste. "You took in a cat."

"Yes," the woman stated matter-of-factly. "The mother and other kittens were abandoned – dead."

"But why bring it here?" The elf scratched his head in confusion. His dislike of cats had grown exponentially since he discovered Anders' love for them. "Couldn't the abomination take it?"

"No, Fenris, I…" Freyja's eyes clouded over for a moment. "I _have _to do this, Fenris. I can't tell you why. I just have to."

He sighed and turned to head for the kitchen.

"Fine. If it means that much to you. Just make sure it doesn't make a mess." The rogue snorted a laugh, looking around at the eternal disaster that was the mansion, even after these years. Then he turned back. "Freyja…are you all right? You seem…troubled. You're gloomy plenty of the time, but this is different."

Freyja scratched the kitten behind the ears, still holding it protectively.

"There's something I feel like I've forgotten…like… I don't quite know. At least part of it has something to do with cats. But I'm afraid to dig deeper. I've been confident so long that my memory has always been intact, but something has changed. I need time."

He studied her unmasked worry closely. Whenever Freyja showed pain, she needed time; it was how she dealt with things like this. The trauma she suffered under Danarius had come close to breaking her on many an occasion. He owed her his life ten times over her. She deserved her space.

"I understand."

_An eighteen-year-old Fenris leaned against the wall alongside his new companion in their Master's dining room while the man ate his supper; the slaves stood by as silent sentries. They were still wearing their usual black armor from their patrol earlier that day. Freyja had been doing all she could to teach the latest arrival how to not get himself punished, all the while pretending to not care about him when they were in their Master's presence or out on a patrol. _

_Fenris didn't quite understand it. At this point, she was the closest thing he had to a friend, but he respected her space when she wanted it. He had only been in Danarius' service for a few weeks, but they already could watch each other's backs with pure instinct. Sometimes, though, he got the feeling that he hadn't seen everything yet. Eventually, Hadriana and the other slaves left and all was quiet for a moment. Then…_

"_Fenris," Danarius beckoned tiredly, not bothering to look back at them, and he prepared to stand from the table. In an instant, Freyja wordlessly held her hand up to stop the elf; the rare look in her eyes was one of panicked warning. He hadn't seen such emotion from her since his first day in this place._

"_Master, if I may," she cut in, abruptly going to the Magister's chair and leaning forward so that Fenris couldn't hear. After a moment of whispering, the man hummed with thoughtful approval._

"_Well, this is an interesting development, my bird. Very well." He turned to Fenris as the female sharply left the room. "Fenris, you are released for the night. We shall have another voyage in the morning to find those artifacts."_

"_Yes, Master," the slave replied, exiting after his companion. _

_He was able to snatch some bread and a few carrots from the kitchens before returning to his quarters – the same room in which he had awakened after receiving his markings. Freyja was nowhere to be found; however, her armor was carefully set on a chair, ready for the next day, and her bed was untouched. _

_Fenris took the opportunity to thoroughly clean his armor. _

_No Freyja._

_He rounded up some warm water and took a bath. _

_Still no Freyja._

_Finally, at nearly midnight, while he was whetting his sword, the woman staggered into the room, wearing one of her long-sleeved tunics, and rolled onto her bed in exhaustion. Fenris almost said something, but she turned away, so he eventually turned down the lamp and went to sleep._

_Perhaps an hour later, the elf was awakened by Freyja talking in her sleep – or whimpering, rather. Strange. He had not noticed such a habit until now. He couldn't make out many of her words, but Danarius was clearly in the dream. But then, she suddenly shrieked and started sobbing; that was when he leapt to her side and shook her awake._

"_Fenris, what are you doing?" she demanded, sitting bolt upright. _

"_You were having a bad dream," he replied blandly. "Are you all right? You seemed…troubled when you returned earlier."_

_Freyja sighed in defeat, wiped away the few tears that had escaped, and brushed her hair back._

"_I can't protect you. I shouldn't."_

"_Were you protecting me from something today?" She closed her eyes and unconsciously massaged her forearm. "I don't want to see you suffer; you've done too much for me."_

_While Fenris was thinking that he had cleared his conscience and done something to protect his mentor, Freyja's mind was in turmoil. She had sworn to resist Danarius in all possible ways; a while ago, she had been succeeding in disconnecting herself from people. But Fenris was making it impossible. When Danarius had called for the elf, her instinct was to protect the new addition. Her Master had done this on purpose. This new bodyguard ploy was succeeding in its intent – to either replace Freyja with someone more compliant, or force her to become more of the ideal slave with the knowledge of her fellow's potential suffering. _

_In order to protect Fenris, she had stepped forward and gone on her own initiative, without a fight. She felt like her last shred of rebellion was being taken. In order to protect this young upstart, she was already sacrificing any hope of independence ever again. And she hated him for it. And she knew she couldn't protect him – not really. Danarius would never give her that much power. She was trapped. Forever. All she could do was shelter this scrawny elf as much as possible. There was no hope. She would never be free._

_And she couldn't protect Fenris forever. Next time, she wouldn't. Those…experiences gave her nightmares of things she had never seen before – like things that needed to remain forgotten. Cats. Something to do with cats._

* * *

"So," Varric smirked, "should we start making bets on how long it takes Broody and Bonny to pair up?"

"What? We're really doing this?" Anders replied in disgust, but Hawke and Isabela were more than willing to contribute.

"At this rate, never."

"I admit to being a little jealous of the connection they seem to have, but…with their flight risk tendencies, I can't imagine anything between them being more than a fling."

"Really?" worried the Dwarf. "I myself have a little more hope for them. Come on, Blondie! We did the same with Hawke and Daisy."

"And I'm sickened by the lot of you," the mage scoffed. "Freyja may not be an open book, but we all know her enough to see that she's fiercely loyal and protective of our friend, the former slave. You've all seen it. Every time more than one of us comes close to falling in battle and she has to choose who to shield, she always picks Fenris…and then acts like nothing happened. There is something more going on than an old friendship."

"You're just jealous too," snapped the former ship captain, but then her tone softened. "She talks to you, Anders. She opens up to me often enough, but there's something about you that she trusts more. Is she really wild for our mysterious armored elf?"

"She hasn't said directly, but what she did say indicates just that. She'd do anything to protect Fenris, but she's terrified that showing it would make her susceptible to attack from their old master."

Varric cleared his throat victoriously.

"About those bets?"

* * *

Freyja's lost memories were never mentioned again; however, the cat stuck around. Fenris learned to tolerate its presence, even the times when he found the grey furball under his armor in the morning…

"Freyja."

It was more of a growl than a call, but the woman heard from wherever she was in the mansion and appeared at the doorway of his bedroom. Fenris looked at where the animal had taken up residence and she came closer, purposefully looking at her feline charge and not at the elf's sinewy bare torso. He could have sworn that her cheeks were going a few shades darker.

"She…likes you, I think," was her simple answer as she carefully picked up the ever-growing creature.

"Why?"

She seemed at a loss for a moment, but she then recovered.

"I think it's your smell."

"My what?"

"It's like warm cedar, cinnamon, and spice…very calming."

"That was a quick description."

Her cheeks were definitely reddening and she was looking more frustrated.

"I've been around you long enough and I'm an observant person," she defended quietly, exiting the room with a stiff back.

But Fenris continued to think about how confidently she had described that little detail about him. He had always known she cared about him, but being around Danarius for so long had evacuated any ideas. She had been the closest thing he had ever considered to be family. Now, he was suddenly starting to see that she had a façade most of the time, and that he had the power to break through that façade as if it didn't exist. He cared for her. Someday, he might have the chance to tell her, when it was safe.

She smelled like a meadow on a warm summer's day after a rainstorm.


	6. Careless

Careless

Fenris had fallen asleep in his chair at the Hanged Man. Finally. After hearing that his supposed sister, Varania, would be there the next day, he had spent half the night worrying over whether it was a trap or whether Hawke would come through for him and be there. Most of the others were gone, but Varric was still left with a sleeping elf and Isabella, whose leg had "accidentally" been propped up against Fenris' shins on the table. The less apparent it seemed that Freyja would make a move, the more Isabela made an effort to sidle up to the grouchy warrior.

Varric sat back and watched his dreaming charges, contemplating the past four years since his original big adventure with Hawke in the Deep Roads. He had more story material from this little clan he had joined than he knew what to do with, and he had his ways of storytelling. Most everyone was slowly revealing their secrets and being surprised with some.

Freyja was the one who had cut in and out the most out of all of them. While she continued to accompany their quests when called upon, she had made a name for herself in the underworld as someone who could get things done quickly, quietly, and lethally by herself. She was high on the list of people whose bad side the dwarf wanted to avoid. She had taken up residence in Fenris' mansion and continued to watch his back when she could, but she was often preoccupied with other things. It was like she was afraid to hurt anyone or be hurt if someone got too close. Even Varric, who could get information out of anyone, had trouble digging up her past – at least when it came to Fenris. The more it seemed that Danarius wasn't coming back, the more secluded and suspicious she became. As impossible as it seemed, she sometimes made Fenris look trusting. She had a secret or a grudge that she couldn't let go. But, once in a while, he would ask at a right moment and she would reveal to Varric some huge part of her past. Maybe this was one of those times.

"How was guard duty?" he asked the shadow that had just manifested itself in the doorway of his private suite. Freyja stepped the rest of the way in with a questioning look. "You think I didn't notice you skulking around out there all night?"

She shrugged at the idea of being caught and took a seat next to Varric. She was good at hiding, but not good enough to outdo him. Her sleek leather armor shifted comfortably as she lowered herself into the chair and removed her bow and quiver.

"There is a chance that this could all be a trap. I wanted to make sure it was safe for the night."

"Oh, come on! You're still protecting Broody while, at the same time, pretending he doesn't exist. It's doing nothing for his mood. You know, he's outdone his record for moodiness three times in a month. And yes, I keep a record…mentally. He even mentioned to Madame-Captain-of-the-Guard's dearly beloved that he barely sees you anymore, even though you live in the same house. Yet, like tonight, half the time, you're hiding out in the main hall when he's with us in here."

"Varric, if I don't stay distant and Danarius does come back, it will be bad for both of us. I just…hope it's worth the effort." Did Freyja really underestimate the lad's affection for her that much? She looked calmly at the elf with a flicker of longing in her eyes. "You know, when I first really met Fenris, he was a skinny teenage house slave…and he somehow managed to beat me – a trained fighter – in combat…before the markings."

"So you _did _know him before he could go all glowey."

"I think you deserve to now, Varric. You've been patient. I wanted to remain distant, but it was my job to teach him and, because he was so vulnerable at the time, protect him. I had already been Danarius' bodyguard for a few years and I knew the pitfalls Fenris would risk if I didn't help him. I grew attached and Danarius saw that from the beginning. And he used it. He knew I had been growing restless in my servitude and told me that, if I ever ran away, he would make Fenris wish he were never born."

"So?"

"So I stayed. That skinny elf's safety became my highest priority, next to my master's. It was a miserable existence. I cared about him, but I had to fight getting too close because I knew it would only tighten my leash. Without really saying anything, Danarius would taunt my affections…he enjoyed that." A look of disgust coated her face. "He didn't happen to mention what would happen if Fenris was the one to get away." She suddenly rose with a shake of the head. "I need a bath after my last task. Tracking someone through the sewers isn't exactly glamorous."

Having said her piece and seen that everything was all clear, Freyja turned to leave, but not before knocking Isabela's foot away from Broody. By the time the other two were fully alert, the rogue was gone. But Fenris still watched where she had disappeared. Perhaps he hadn't really been asleep that whole time after all.

!

Fenris had arrived at his mansion to find Freyja asleep on a couch in one of the sitting rooms – never in the same place more than two nights in a row. When he awoke the next morning, she was gone. When he looked in the bedroom where she kept her weapons and other belongings, he found her armor cleaned and polished on the floor, along with her bow and quiver. He found it odd; she hardly went anywhere without being fully prepared for a fight.

But then he found a letter half-hidden under some clothes. While his reading skills were still elementary at best, he was able to make out that Varania was asking Freyja to meet her early that morning before Fenris came…something about her being nervous about meeting her brother. Everything about it screamed that it was a trap. Why would Freyja let her guard down for this? He needed to collect his friends and go to the Hanged Man quickly. Something was wrong. He just knew it.

!

_They were visiting another Magister. Freyja didn't care who. Her master was safely deposited in the dining hall and, after testing her master's drink for poison, she was sent away. It wasn't unusual. He trusted her enough, but she didn't think she was supposed to know about what they were discussing. Something about a competition for slaves around the area. It probably didn't concern her. _

_The bodyguard took her position of pacing the hallway outside the dining room. Anyone who passed – slaves, servants, or nobles – veered around her. She wasn't really physically imposing, but her piercing gaze, her black leather, her weapons, and her reputation did the trick. Anyone who knew Danarius firsthand also knew that he was well protected._

_Her days were a nightmare and her nights were even worse, between her slave status, Hadriana, and Danarius. She owed that scum no allegiance, yet she protected him with her life. Perhaps that was what scared people the most about her – that they didn't know why Danarius had such loyalty. What made it even worse was that she had once known freedom. She had lost it because she cared more for the people she loved than for her own safety. Now she paid for that by protecting a person she hated. One day, she would find the courage to plan her escape. Maybe she would go to Ferelden or Rivain or the Free Marches. Anywhere but here._

_But here she was. And she hated herself for it. Right now, this was as good as life was going to get. She had no experience in the real world on her own; everyone who was anyone knew her face from following Danarius; she had no money or resources; and, if she was caught… That was what hindered her the most, perhaps. From Day One, Danarius knew what made her tick. She tried pushing everyone away, but she always somehow ended up getting attached to a slave or an animal. Then, Danarius would notice and either kill or maim the creature that had gained her affection just to watch her internal struggle – he loved to try making her mask of indifference fall away in anguish. It was a never-ending cycle, until half a year ago. She had finally resolved to never get attached to anything ever again. Danarius was clearly bored. She hated him, so why did she stay? The slave shivered; she didn't want to answer that question._

"_Excuse me?" Freyja looked up from her brooding to find a teenage redheaded elf girl standing before her. The girl held up a piece of fresh bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth. "I saw you come out here and thought you might be hungry. And, if you want, there are extra cots in the slave quarters on the south end of the mansion."_

_Freyja was stunned, but took the meager meal with a polite nod and smile. This was probably the only food she would get tonight; however, here, she might be able to sneak into the kitchens. Back home, Hadriana frequently stole her dinner just to see Freyja nearly writhing from hunger by morning. That young mage was out of control._

_The slave elf nervously began walking away. For a moment, the bodyguard remained silent, but she finally cursed under her breath and raised her voice._

"_What is your name?"_

_The elf turned back, still fidgeting timidly._

"_My name is Varania."_

"_You are a slave here?"_

"_With my mother and brother."_

_Her heart was growing cold with time – she could already sense it – but she was still touched by this selfless gesture. Too soon would the child learn that slaves couldn't afford to do this._

"_I am Freyja. You have done me a great service, Varania. I will not forget it."_

_!_

_Freyja, still smelling like a sewer, dragged herself to Fenris' mansion from checking on him at the Hanged Man. Fenris had been more than stressed by the idea of meeting his long-lost sister the next day. As she approached the mansion, she found an envelope with her name stuck in the door. She first entered the house and went to her storage room before bothering to open it in the lamplight. _

_**Freyja,**_

_**I know it has been a long time and you will likely not remember me, but my name is Varania. When you came to visit my former master with Danarius many years ago, I was the slave who gave you food and a place to sleep. As you have likely heard, I am Fenris' sister and am to meet him tomorrow; however, I can't help but be nervous. If there is any chance you could meet me in the morning before he comes, I could use a friend. **_

_**Varania**_

_As she cleaned her armor, Freyja considered this request. She only had one encounter with Varania to go on to judge her character, and Fenris had a feeling that this was all a trap. On the other hand, Varania was a free woman now and only came to this city because Fenris convinced her. It was likely that she needed a friend who knew the new Fenris. And, however small the action had been, she owed Varania for that kindness all those years ago. _

_Resolved, Freyja set aside her armor. Varania needed a friend tomorrow, not a warrior._

_!_

The woman anxiously blew the hair out of her face that was falling out of the ponytail. Resting her hands on the hilts of her daggers, Freyja couldn't help but feel naked without her leather and bow. Her instincts were suddenly kicking into high gear for paranoia. But a redheaded elf woman sitting at the back of the main tavern settled her fears for now. Varania looked up with a spooked expression when she approached, but she smiled a little when Freyja sat across from her. Nervous little thing.

"I didn't think you'd come," the elf began with a sigh. "I thought, since Fenris didn't come the moment I arrived, he was too scared or suspicious."

"He will come," the woman assured her. "It's been hard for him. After having his memory wiped, he wasn't aware of any life he had before the markings."

"Why didn't Danarius have your memory wiped?"

"The same reason he didn't always let me eat my dinner. It was more entertaining for me to have my memories. They were what I fed off of for my guilt and personal punishment. Did you ever try to find Fenris after he came to Danarius?"

"I was busy caring for my mother and starting a new life with no money," Varania said somewhat bitterly. "Leto was the last thing on my mind for kind thoughts."

"You seem to be doing well enough now." Varania suddenly looked at the front door and Freyja's whole body tensed up. She had made a critical mistake in coming. The woman turned slightly to see three soldiers slowly walking towards her. More were coming down the stairs, blocking any escape out the back. She turned back to her almost friend with sparks practically flying out of her eyes. "_Why_? I was here as a friend and you do this?"

"I'm sorry. I truly am. But, with my mother gone, I was trapped…until the Magister came and offered me the opportunity of a lifetime."

It felt like a shard of ice had just plunged into Freyja's heart. All this running. For nothing?

"Magister?"

"Hello, Freyja." That shard of ice delved deeper at the sound of that voice. Coming down the stairs was her nightmare. Danarius. "Come now, dear girl, don't be shy. Come greet your old master!"

Freyja rose, her knuckles turning white from clinging to her drawn dagger, and approached the cruel mage. She hated him. She was going to kill him now, while she had the chance.

"Why?" she hissed, keeping a safe distance from the man. "Why shouldn't I kill you now? Why have you dared come after me after all these years, after I killed all of the men you sent?"

He smiled that smile of his and a chill ran down her spine.

"My dear, you _know_ you and Fenris are my most prized possessions. Life isn't the same without you." He fully closed the gap between them and slowly grasped her armed wrist, lowering his intoxicating voice. "Did you ever think you had truly gotten away from me? Just as you protected me, I protected you. You are not made for this life. You and I, we make the perfect…team."

Freyja couldn't hide her growing disgust.

"A team where you take all the advantages of your position and I am no more than a pawn with weapons? I think I prefer freedom. I have friends, employment, a life – I would never give it up just like that. You think you can come here and just take me with no effort? You're wrong. I'd rather die first."

In her smug statement, she let her guard down. Danarius had been hiding a knife in his hand and it was now embedded deep in her back. Her own weapon clattered to the floor. As she gasped in pain, the mage's pretentious attitude only heightened. And he didn't let go of the dagger in her flesh as he whispered in her ear with paralyzing gentleness.

"I know. You forget, my little bird, that I know everything there is to know about you. I know that you and Fenris feed off of each other for morale. You always did, even when you tried to shun him and you would squabble. It was quite special to watch. Even now, you're trying to think of how to save him and, despite his self-preserving nature, my little wolf will do everything he can to protect you. I look forward to how this plays out before I take you both back with me to Tevinter. You will not be flying much longer, my bird."

He finally released the dagger and she melted into the arms of the soldiers, who dragged her up the stairs. The pain of the blade shifting around in her torso sent rainbows of color dancing past her vision.

She had to warn Fenris. She had to…

!

"You resilience always amazed me."

Danarius' voice sounded foggy as Freyja struggled to wake up. The only sensation she felt was a pounding, dull agony radiating from the knife…still in her back. Well, if he removed it, she would likely bleed out. For now, she just needed to focus on not leaning wrong against the wall and driving it even further. He likely wanted to keep her alive, at least for now. The mage was just sitting there in all his glory, sipping his wine.

"Fenris…" she breathed. Was he dead? Did he get away? Or had he not come yet?

"He was reported to be on his way here with a few friends. In fact…" He suddenly rose from his seat and forced Freyja to stand. She clenched her teeth to avoid crying out as the knife moved. If she showed too much pain, Danarius would punish her. "…we should be ready to greet him when he arrives." Then, the slaver glanced down at the blade as if he had just noticed it. "Oh. Sorry about that, my dear. I didn't want you making a mess on the floor just yet."

Then he did it. He pulled the knife out of her back, renewing all the pain it had caused going in. Then she did cry out. Danarius merely pressed his arm across her shoulders to keep her from sliding back down. She could feel the blood spreading, hot against her skin. Danarius was far from forgiving. She couldn't let him torture Fenris like this too. Or, rather, she couldn't stand to _watch_ him hurt Fenris like this. That ridiculous elf had no idea.

"Let…" She took a second to catch her breath. "I will come without a fight, Danarius. Just…let Fenris go free."

Danarius simply smiled. She shouldn't have said it. She should have threatened to kill herself or… She wasn't thinking clearly. Any time she ever showed a sign of resistance, Fenris was his weapon.


	7. Hate

Hate

Fenris cautiously entered the Hanged Man and instantly caught sight of the redheaded elf woman in the back. He felt better knowing that he had Hawke, Anders, and Varric to back him up.

"It really is you," the woman sighed.

"Varania?" Fenris stood there in shock as a few memories trickled into his mind. It really was his sister. "I…I remember you. We played in our master's courtyard while Mother worked. You called me…"

"Leto," she finished, standing. "That's your name."

Something wasn't right. She was refusing to look at him.

"What's wrong? Why are you so…?"

"I'll give you three guesses," Hawke scoffed.

"Ah, my Fenris. Predictable as always."

Danarius announced his presence, coming down the stairs with several guards in tow. The moment was over. His own sister had betrayed him.

"I'm sorry it came to this, Leto," the woman stated with hardly any sorrow at all. She looked at him now.

"You led him here!" accused Fenris, stepping threatening towards her.

"Now, now, Fenris," Danarius chided, stepping beside Varania. "Don't blame your sister. She did what any good Imperial citizen should."

Fenris' anger peaked as Freyja appeared at the top of the stairs with another soldier.

"I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius! But I won't let you kill me to get them!"

The mage laughed.

"Oh, how little you know, my pet. And this is your new master, then? The Champion of Kirkwall? Impressive."

"Fenris doesn't belong to anyone," Hawke defended. At least he had someone on his side still.

"Do I detect a note of jealousy? It's not surprising. The lad is rather skilled, isn't he?"

"Shut your mouth, Danarius!" snarled Fenris, his markings flaring to life.

"The word is 'Master'," he sighed, backing away to where Freyja was now standing at the bottom of the stairs against the wall. Blood dripped steadily to the floor and her focus remained downward. Danarius clearly noted how her pain angered the elf. "Now, my bird, do you not see? I told you I'd make him suffer if you ran; I just didn't say how."

"I'm going enjoy wiping that smirk off your face," sneered Hawke. Varric and even Anders were clearly ready to defend their friends. The apostate mage may have not liked Fenris, but he was ready to protect Freyja.

The group was instantly surrounded by soldiers, while Danarius created a forcefield around himself and helped the weak rogue lower herself to the ground.

The battle was bloody but short. Eventually, the dead soldiers were littering the floor and Danarius had been disabled. Fenris stalked to where his former master was kneeling and reached his hand into the man's chest, lifting him, choking, into the air.

"You are no longer my master."

Killing his master gave him no satisfaction yet. He turned on the cowering Varania.

"I had no choice, Leto," she defended blandly, provoking another threatening approach from her estranged sibling.

"Stop calling me that!"

"He was going to make me his apprentice. I would have been a Magister."

"You sold out your own brother to become a Magister?"

She straightened, suddenly defensive.

"You have no idea what we went through. What I've had to do since Mother died. This was my only chance."

The lyrium flickered to life again.

"And now you have no chance at all."

"Please…don't do this." She looked to Hawke for help. "Please tell him to stop!"

"Wait!" Hawke jumped in. "Don't kill her."

Fenris turned on his companion.

"Why not? She was ready to see me killed. What is she to me other than just one more tool of the magisters?"

"Your sister's as much a victim as you were."

"Elf…Fenris," Varric stepped in. "Don't. It won't help. Trust me."

Fenris looked back at the fading rogue at the stairs, torn between satisfying his revenge and not risking another regret. He finally looked back at his despicable sister.

"Get out."

She ran past him. When she spoke, he refused to turn and look at her.

"You said you didn't ask for this, but that's not true. You wanted it. You competed for it. When you won, you used the boon to have Mother and I freed."

He gave in and looked at her. Did she enjoy torturing him?

"Why are you telling me this?"

Her voice hardened.

"Freedom was no boon. I look on you now and I think you received the better end of the bargain."

Then she left Fenris more confused and alone than ever. He turned to Hawke in defeat.

"I thought discovering my past would bring a sense of belonging, but I was wrong. Magic has tainted that, too. There is nothing for me to reclaim. I am alone."

"You have friends," Hawke countered.

"Oh. And who would those be? You?"

"It sure isn't me," Anders chimed in, but Varric shot back,

"Hey now, you could do worse."

"You heard what Varania said," the elf continued to argue. "I wanted these. I fought for them. I feel unclean, like this magic is not only etched into my skin, but has also stained my soul."

"Why have you never asked Freyja about your past? She never lost her memory."

"She never gave me the option. She was always so focused on escaping the past, it seemed, that she refused to share that information."

"She may not like it, but you deserve to know. You should ask her."

"Assuming she lives through this," the remaining mage inputted as he knelt beside the now unconscious woman. Fenris rushed to stand at her side. He hadn't thought that Danarius would risk Freyja's life. "She's been stabbed…some time ago. We need to get her to my clinic right away."

Without another word, Fenris scooped up his friend and rushed for the door.

* * *

The Hanged Man was still a mess, so the companions went to the Hawke estate to wait for Anders' signal to return after he kicked them out of the clinic. Hawke's servant had provided food and drink, making the wait slightly more bearable. After about half an hour, Aveline and Merrill were the last to arrive.

"I returned home as soon as I heard," the elf apologized, sitting with Hawke. "I was at the alienage, helping clean some of the houses. I stopped by Anders' clinic to give Freyja some fresh clothes, but he shooed me out after a minute…something about not wanting blood magic involved."

"Indeed," growled Fenris, still in a foul mood.

"If I may ask," added Hawke, "I know you said she didn't want to talk about it, but… If I didn't remember anything from my past and someone was there, I wouldn't rest until that person told me everything they could."

"Any time she sensed I might ask, she would get this look…and I would just drop the subject. I know she didn't meet me until right before I received the markings…it wasn't worth concerning her."

"While you were preoccupied with Danarius, I saw her looking at you. And then there was that comment Danarius made right before we attacked…"

"He was punishing her for escaping."

Aveline rolled her eyes before giving her opinion:

"And here I thought I was daft when I was thinking of pursuing Donnic. She cares about you, Fenris…more than either of you are willing to admit. You'd be surprised what she says when you corner her into conversation."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Despite living in the same house as you, she's been trying to stay distant in order keep Danarius' control over you two at a minimum. She was afraid that, if she got too close to you and he returned, you would try giving yourself up for her, or vice versa. I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to negotiate for your freedom."

Merrill leaned forward with a mischievous look.

"Ask her, Fenris."

"And while you're at it," added Hawke with a smirk, "why don't you tell her what you told me about your experience on Seheron? You said you had never told anyone before; I think she would understand more."

* * *

"Don't try to move too much. Healing you was not an easy task." Freyja slowly opened her heavy eyelids to find herself in Anders' clinic with the mage standing beside her. She opened her mouth to speak, but found her tongue and throat to be parched. Anders was instantly at her side again with water. "The others were getting underfoot, so I kicked them out."

"How long was I unconscious?" she asked quietly before clearing her throat.

"We were at the Hanged Man around mid-morning and it's now after nightfall."

"And Fenris?"

"He'll be around for plenty of squabbles with me, I can assure you. You know…" She looked at him suspiciously. "I know it's not really my business, but, especially after what I saw today… Freyja, he needs to hear about his former life from someone who isn't trying to kill or provoke him. So far, he's learned things from Hadriana, who tormented him to the very last, and Varania, who revealed how he got his markings purely out of spite. He thinks he's alone. He needs to know that he has you."

Freyja remained silent for a moment.

"Fenris should hear you saying this," she muttered. "If I help him remember some things, he may remember all of it."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing for him to remember his life before being chained to Danarius?"

"No life of slavery is a good memory, Anders. You don't understand. I was right around the corner when he received those markings. Taking his memories was the kindest thing Danarius could have done after that experience, no matter what the cost. To have someone cut into your flesh and pour molten lyrium into those wounds… Even the markings I received were barely manageable. And, anyhow, I prefer his first memories of me firsthand being my helping him get back on his feet…not of me trying to kill him."

Anders' eyes widened. He wanted to hear that story.

"I don't think it will matter. What matters is that it's coming from someone he trusts who won't take advantage of him."

"That almost sounded like you care," she laughed dryly.

"Just don't tell him I said any of that and I won't harass you anymore. Are you well enough for me to allow visitors? The others were quite concerned." She nodded. "One other thing. I couldn't help but notice the scars on your back."

"That is my story to tell and mine alone. It's…" She bit back whatever she was going to say. "I carry my hate with me wherever I go – not just in my markings, but in those scars."

"Maybe, someday, you can let go of that hate."

"You're one to talk."

* * *

By the time Fenris arrived at the clinic, Freyja felt well enough to help change some of the other patients' bandages. She would have just left, but Anders had insisted that she stay for at least a few more hours, if not the rest of the night, to be sure she was fully healed. When the elf appeared, she met him closer to the entrance. The green tunic Merrill had brought for her fit well, though her shoulders were broader than the mage's. Her arms were crossed protectively and, as she had been doing since she awoke, she occasionally glanced around warily.

"You are well?"

"Well enough, considering that I was stabbed and left with a blade in my back for an hour." She smiled slightly then and looked back at Anders. "I was in good hands. I heard you killed Danarius."

"I did." He noted then her insecure stance. "What did he do to you, Freyja?"

"You mean other than stabbing me?" she spat. "What would you expect of Danarius?"

"I recall many things he did that were hateful."

"You never had to suffer his wrath alone like I did, Fenris."

Something was wrong with Freyja – something more than recovering from a stabbing or hearing that her old master was dead. She was refusing to look Fenris in the eye.

"Freyja…why did you meet with Varania and go there unprepared even though you knew it might be a trap?"

"I owed her…from a long time ago."

"You knew her before? When?"

"A long time ago. She helped me. You weren't there."

"She's my sister. I deserve to know." His voice took on an edge of annoyance as his friends' advice sank in. He had the right to know about his past, and Freyja was the only one he trusted to give him those answers. Now to get her to tell him… "I have never pushed you to tell me anything about my past before, but I have to know: Why have you _not_ told me anything? By now, I know I have some things that I wish would stay buried, but I'm tired of being surprised. Varania said I competed for these markings, but…I want to know there was a reason I tried to save that worthless woman."

Fenris thought that she would understand, but the glint in her eyes told something completely different. Her voice was laced with bitterness.

"You have _no_ idea. I wish our places were exchanged and I was the one with no memory. I wish I could forget the guilt and the torment that brought me down this path. By the time you came along, I already wished I could have erased every single day from my mind. By that time, I was no longer the same person who tried to save her family from slavery." Her markings flickered to life for a moment. "I spent over four years protecting that man with my life in hopes of receiving protection and mercy, and what did I get as thanks? He announces that he's going to have a competition for slaves to become a bodyguard with lyrium enhancements. After all that, he was going to replace me! Without my position as his bodyguard, I was just a…" She couldn't bring herself to finish that sentence. "You came along and I was charged with teaching and protecting you. I could no longer think of myself and my escape. I…found a knew priority." Her eyes shot up to his accusingly. "But then you left."

"I had no control over being left behind. You have no right to place any blame on my shoulders."

Something snapped and her markings burst fully to life, as did Fenris'. His search for answers was quickly turning into a contest of accusations. Anders remained at a distance, watching the intermittent light show of gestures with great curiosity.

"And you had no right to leave me to mercies of Danarius, regardless, after all I did for you!"

"Oh yes. I'm sure you were very pleased to finally be back to his favorite pet."

"You have no idea how angry he was. While you were off frolicking across the world, Danarius tortured me as often as he got the chance. _Just like he promised._"

"I had no choice." He paused. "What do you mean 'just like he promised'?"

Freyja's jaw dropped. She turned away with arms folded, unable to look her companion in the face.

"The only reason I never ran away from Danarius was because he told me that he would make you wish you were never born. He also suggested that it worked the other way as well. He knew that I was contemplating a getaway – that I was getting restless. You were his insurance that I would never try to escape."

Fenris stood there in shock. Until he had been left behind on Seheron, escape had barely crossed his mind as a possibility.

"He probably didn't need to say anything to me. I had no thoughts of escaping at the time. Lara…" He used her old name in hopes of bringing her back to reality.

"You betrayed me. You left me to that animal. You had the freedom _I _wanted. You made it impossible."

She whirled around as her long-pent-up rage was released. Their relit arms collided as he blocked her blow, but their merging limbs had an unforeseen effect.

_The young elf slave sat hidden in the corner of the dusty arena, alone before the crowd. He had beaten nearly all of the other slaves competing for the honor of being Danarius' special new bodyguard; the defeated were all dead. Danarius could afford it. He was planning to infuse lyrium into the flesh of the bodyguard…it was supposed to grant special abilities, whatever that meant. _

_As Leto rested before his last challenge, his eyes wandered to the stand where the master and his party sat. Sitting cross-legged at his feet was his present bodyguard, her form enveloped in a cloak, as always. Occasionally, Danarius' hand would fall to her back and she would visibly shiver. If his hand lingered, she would pointedly lean away, ever so casually. He had heard from the people here that she never mingled with the ordinary slaves, so she was a mystery. She had appeared among the magistrate's slaves four years ago and had stayed ever by his side since. What was to happen to her after this?_

"I remember!" Fenris gasped. "I remember when I first saw you."

Freyja looked at him, massaging her stinging hand in confusion.

"Nothing like that…has ever happened. I've had flashbacks myself, but...to see into your memories like that..."

"Perhaps because we both have the lyrium markings? I am not sure."

She shivered in the warm air, her eyes flickering up at her old companion. They had never fought during their days of slavery; they had been too busy protecting each other and their master. And she knew the markings caused flashbacks at certain times, but this was new.

"I think…I need to get some fresh air."

After retrieving her daggers from Anders, she headed for the exit of Darktown. Fenris sensed the mage approaching.

"Well," Anders chirped, "at least you got some things out in the open."

* * *

Freyja wasn't sure where she was going. She just needed time to brood and hadn't had the chance since she had been surrounded by people all day. Seeing her old master again had brought chilling memories to the surface of her conscience. She hadn't lied; she often did wish she could just forget all those years of being on Danarius' leash. And, today, she had almost gone back to that life. Being a slave wasn't just about serving without pay; she wasn't allowed to be her own person. Her life had revolved purely around doing whatever Danarius asked of her and she had no control over it – no possibility of saying no without dire consequences. She was ravaged by guilt, memories, and the pain of her markings, none of which were her fault.

Her hand unconsciously reached under her tunic to her back, feeling the uneven ripples of scar tissue. She hadn't thought about it in a long time. Danarius used to heal all of her other injuries – he didn't want his prized possession to have any imperfections – but she hadn't given him the chance this time. Her life had been a nightmare before, but, with Fenris' escape piled on top of all his other reasons to hurt her, it became unbearable. She cared for that stupid elf more than anything in the world, but, after he left, he also became a subject of her burning hatred.

_Something was wrong. _

_Freyja waited at the dock, having heard news of her master's return. She had been left behind to keep everything in line and intimidate anyone who tried to betray him in his absence (he was suspicious that way). He shouldn't have been returning from his campaign on Seheron for another day or two. Where was Fenris? Even at a distance, she was usually able to somehow sense his presence. And this was a different ship than the one on which she had seen her master depart. Where was he? He had never shown any inclinations of escaping, so that wasn't possible. Was it?_

_The second the ship docked, Danarius stalked out onto the platform and towards the city with hardly a second glance at the slave. Freyja had a million questions going through her mind, but he was clearly not in the mood. Danarius flew through the streets of the city towards his estate, forcing his bodyguard to practically jog to keep up. As they departed from the docks, she glanced back one last time._

_It wasn't long before the duo reached the estate. Danarius plunged through the front entrance of the main house and headed for the library, where Hadriana typically spent her time studying. Freyja hesitated going in, but she hadn't been dismissed yet. And she had many questions._

"_Master," she began quietly. She instantly regretted drawing attention to herself as the man grabbed her throat and pinned her to a bookshelf, hard enough to send several of the tomes dropping to the floor. She had seen him angry like this a few times, and it was always very bad news for her. "Master," she gasped._

_Hadriana slowly rose from the reading table nearby and crept over to them, completely ignoring the slave._

"_Master, what happened on Seheron? Why are you back early? I heard something about the battle going ill."_

_Danarius allowed Freyja to fall to the floor and turned to his apprentice._

"_Most of the troops were dead. Fenris is gone." Gone?! Dead? "Notify the guards to prepare to depart as soon as possible. We're going back to find him." He turned threateningly back on the slave. "If he's… I'll deal with you when I return."_

* * *

_During the week or so it took to prepare for the trip back to Seheron, Danarius completely ignored Freyja, which was unusual indeed. He never said whether Fenris had been captured, whether he escaped, or perhaps if he had been lost in the battle, and Freyja was afraid to ask him in this state. When he departed, there was no option of the slave coming to assist, leaving her to wonder and worry for days. She was worried about Fenris if he was found, and herself if he wasn't. _

_Danarius returned this time without any warning. _

_Whenever her master was away, Freyja would take it upon herself to deliver food to the prisoners locked away in the lower levels of the mansion. She could relate to their pain and, she figured in their position, she would want someone to bring her food without receiving a beating too. Hadriana did that many times. No one deserved such treatment. Besides, she was often the one interrogating these poor wretches. When she did this small kindness, they hopefully understood that she had no choice. It was her way of apologizing to them. At the moment, there were only a few unofficial inmates. She slid the sad soup, crusty bread, and water through the bars of the last man. Before she could pull her hand back, he gently grabbed her wrist. Her eyes shot to his with suspicion, but she didn't pull away. _

"_I was caught trying to sneak sensitive documents from the upstairs study," he explained with a raspy voice._

"_I remember."_

_She had interrogated this man for some time – painfully – to find his contacts. Why did she see no hate? She knew that emotion well, but didn't sense any in this character. He had every reason to hate her._

"_The reason I didn't get away was because I was tardy…because I saw how the magistrate was treating you. It was…" Freyja redirected her gaze, glad that it was dark enough to conceal the reddening of her cheeks. "I almost considered trying to help you, but I was afraid. I'm sorry."_

_Freyja licked her lips slowly._

"_You should have run while you could. I couldn't have come with you. You know what I'm capable of and you know that, as his slave, I have no choice in what I do."_

"_Everyone has a choice. Everyone deserves the chance to be free." _

_Great. An enthusiast. Freyja stood, no longer flustered. She was going to kill Fenris when he came back._

"_You do not understand."_

"_But…"_

_The heavy door of the dungeon burst open suddenly, revealing her master. His fine robes were dusty and a large cut in the cloth around his abdomen indicated a healed injury. _

"_Where is Fenris?" she demanded, but he didn't even slow his pace as he stalked toward her between the rows of cages. When he reached the woman, he roughly grabbed her arm dragged her towards the back of the dungeon – toward the room used for torture and interrogation. Freyja found herself trembling despite her efforts to remain calm. "Where is Fenris?" In silence, he forced her to the wall to put her hands in the shackles above her head. The cloth on her back was ripped open. She turned to look behind when she heard him humming; he was looking at the choices of whips. She stuffed her face against her arm, praying that this might be a bad dream. "Where is Fenris?" she whispered._

"_Fenris is gone," he breathed in her ear. "Run away. Fled. Left you here alone, my little caged bird. Of course, my hunters will find him, but, in the meantime…I did promise."_

_The rest of the evening was a blur of torment, healing, and repeat. This was how he had beaten her into full submission years ago. But no one would know it, since he had healed her wounds with magic every time. _

_At some point, the man in the last cage called out to her. At a few points, she screamed Fenris' name – begging, longing, fear, hate. Had he really left her to this? The only person she considered a friend anymore? None of it added up, but, every time the lash fell on her back, it mattered less._


	8. Rogue Heart

Rogue Heart

"FENRIS!"

Fenris bolted out of his room half-dressed. That scream had been Freyja's voice, nearby.

"Please, stop. Why did he leave me? _Fenris!"_

Instead of panicked, this was more pleading. He followed her voice to one of the other upstairs bedrooms. At her cry of agony, he burst in the room to find her thrashing about in her bed.

"He wouldn't leave me…he just… Please, Master. Stop!"

Fenris bolted to her side, shaking her until her eyes popped open. She was shaking, sweaty, and bewildered, but unharmed. After quickly looking around, she settled on the elf.

"It was just a dream, Freyja. Danarius is dead."

"What time is it?"

"Nearly sunrise." She sighed and started absentmindedly massaging her shoulder. When she did so, Fenris caught sight of something strange. "I don't remember you having scars like that before." She was still too shaken to prevent him from turning up the room lamp and looking closer. She shivered as his warm fingers traced the ragged white outline of the whips. "What happened?"

"I told you. He had said he would make me wish I was never born. I was not exaggerating. The weeks after he failed to retrieve you were just a series of near-deaths for me. I even begged him to take my memories, but… When the torment didn't stop, I decided to plan my escape. My only advantage that kept his eyes off me was the fact that he thought I was still _bleeding_ on a table, waiting for him to come heal me with his magic again."

"You know it was not my intention to leave. After the battle, I was able to get Danarius to a ship, but they had no room for me and I was left for the Fog Warriors to find. It was then that I got my taste of freedom. When he returned for me, he ordered me to kill the Fog Warriors, and I did. But when I saw them lying there, saw what I had done to the people who had taken me in and taught me what it was to be free…I ran. Danarius was injured and unable to stop me."

"So he returned and punished me," she finished quietly. "Did you ever think of what happened to me?"

"_Of course I did_. But I assumed that you would have been back to being Danarius' only pet and helping him track me down."

"He never bothered asking. He knew, of all the things he could have commanded, I would have refused to capture you."

"Why?"

"Because…" She stood and went to the window to avoid looking at him. "Because you're the only one I couldn't shut out…that is what he used to control me after you came. When you ran, he lost control. Without you, he didn't know of any leverage he could use against me. He couldn't afford to trust me anymore. I lost the command in the house. No one listened to me or cared. I wasn't even really a slave, other than by title. More a prisoner or a toy."

He joined Freyja at the window. He could see that she didn't like revealing her secret thoughts like this. She could be open at times, but this was a scar that she had tried burying deep.

"I'm sorry. I never realized."

Her anger suddenly leapt forward once more and she turned on him. Her markings emphasized her fury as they sent light shimmering around her upper body.

"You left me, Fenris. You were the only person in the world I thought I could trust. You _abandoned _me. You saw firsthand what Danarius did to me. You even experienced it yourself. But, unlike you, I had a life I remembered before becoming a slave, and I remembered losing everything. I remembered what it was like to not have to obey every command given, to not live in fear every moment, and to - to breathe without worrying that someone will hear me. _Venhedis!_ I put my life in your hands and didn't even know it. I spent all those years protecting myself just have you go gallivanting off into the sunset."

"I didn't have a choice."

"You sound just like your sister," she sneered, pointing an accusing figure at him. "Didn't have a choice? You were the one with choices. I had none!"

She moved to hit him with her fist, but he easily blocked her and grabbed her glowing wrist, trying and failing to remain calm.

"When I was left behind, I was terrified, uncertain, and too injured to defend myself. After Danarius returned for me… I had tasted a new kind of life and I couldn't look back. All I could think of was getting away from him. Once I had seen freedom, I could never go back to that life willingly."

"Did you ever think of _me_ while you were traipsing across the countryside?"

He yanked her closer, looking her straight in the eyes.

"Almost every day. Once my head had cleared and the reality of being free settled, I frequently wondered if you had ever tried to escape – if you were all right."

She pressed her other fist against his chest as if she wanted to knock him across the room but couldn't bring herself to do it. Her lips were pulled tightly together to try in vain to cover up her inner turmoil. If Danarius had beaten her within an inch of her life because of him, then she had every right to be angry.

"You thought about me." The fist pressed harder. "You _thought _about me." She deliberately pounded her free hand against his chest – once, twice, three times. "I nearly paid the price of your freedom with my life and you just spared a thought for me?! When I escaped, I tried so hard to find you, to see if you were even alive. Back in the Hanged Man, I offered to go back to my personal hell with that slave-master so you could be free – so that you could have the chance to have what I lost." Tears came to her eyes as she struggled to get free while also throwing surprisingly powerful punches with her left hand. She was no longer thinking of her words before they exited her mouth. "And you _thought _about me! I cared about you. I _loved_ you!"

Fenris pinned the woman to the wall by her wrists and let those words sink in. She writhed to try and get loose – Danarius used to hold her wrists like that.

"You what?"

She stared at him, suddenly passive.

"Trust me. It wasn't a first sight thing. I tried to kill you. But then, later, you just… You asked what my real name was and… I don't know if it was just that you cared or if I was letting you in, but…"

She was cut short as Fenris' lips crashed into hers. She didn't like feeling vulnerable; in fact, she despised it. But this was different. As Freyja ran her fingers through the elf's snowy hair, their markings both relit.

_At last, the other finalist walked into the sunlight; the round was beginning. While Leto was tall for an elf, this human female made him look like a child. Leto easily lifted his two-handed sword to meet the blade of his foe. What the woman had in strength she lacked in skill and flexibility. Others had found her daunting, but Leto wasn't fazed. He had his family to save. He could feel Freyja's eyes on him throughout the fight; the bodyguard never missed a thing._

_The duel was easier than he had predicted. The previous round had left his opponent exhausted and overconfident. Aside from getting clipped on the chest, Leto remained unharmed when his sword struck her over the head, killing her._

_He relaxed for a moment, realizing he had won, and turned to look at his new master for approval. But what happened next caught him completely off-guard. Amid the applause, Freyja bounded from the stands, daggers unsheathed, and attacked. The first onslaught knocked Leto on his back. She was shorter than him, but she had been trained to fight for years. In a rare move, she removed her cloak before the crowd. Her sand-colored hair was pulled back from her clear face in a weave of intricate braids and her misty eyes burned into him. Why the hostility? Leto looked over at Danarius. The Magister looked surprised by his bodyguard's actions at first, but then he smiled and clapped. Freyja gritted her teeth, but shouldn't she be pleased with the approval?_

_Leto scrambled to his feet to prepare himself to face his unexpected competitor. They charged each other and, this time, their blades met perfectly, their deadly harmonious sound ringing out over the crowd. They went back and forth for a few minutes, never gaining full advantage over each other. Every time Leto had the opportunity to launch a heavier blow with his sword, she would roll or dance away; every time she lunged for an open window of attack with her blades, he managed to force her away with his superior weight and larger weapon. The whole time they fought, her face remained passive with underlying, broiling hate – hate towards him, herself, Danarius? _

_Finally, with a twist of his hilt, Leto managed to send one of her daggers flying out of reach, but it cost him a blow to the calf with her remaining knife. She moved unbelievably fast for a human; she would be right in front of him one second and, the next, she would be charging from behind. She was a rogue – a very proficient one, at that._

_By chance, he anticipated one of her moves and lashed out with his foot, landing a kick on her hip. As she went down, he swung his sword to meet her throat and froze. Would he get in trouble if he killed Danarius' prized bodyguard? He had worked for this, after all, to save his family. And was he not to be her replacement? While the Magister slowly made his way down into the arena, Leto remained poised with his weapon ready to catch any suspicious movements from his opponent. Both of them had sustained injuries – nothing too impeding, but they would each carry a few scars from the experience. Freyja's expression still held the elf in wonder. There was so much buried in those eyes._

_Leto stood as Danarius approached, but the man's gaze was on his slave._

"_You never cease to surprise me, Freyja. What boon do you have?"_

"_You know perfectly well," she reluctantly hissed under her breath, as if she was pulling teeth. The crowd couldn't hear, but Leto could. Danarius frowned and considered the request._

"_Very well, your people will remain safe of my prying eyes and you may remain under my protection. No, I will not change my mind about the new addition. It seems the little wolf has a runner-up. Only fair that you should also receive part of the reward."_

_Freyja suddenly was stiff with terror._

"_Master, please. I only wanted…"_

"_I have spoken, slave. You will have this honor. Don't be afraid that you are unworthy." That was clearly not why she was afraid. "I'm sure you will make good use of it as you continue in my service." His focus finally came to Leto as he appraised his new possession. "You have emerged victorious, elf. What boon would you ask of me?"_

_Now was his moment._

"_That my mother and sister are freed from slavery." _

"_Ah, yes. I know who they are," the man mused lightly. "Consider it done. Now, these guards will escort you inside. The sooner you can begin your duties, the better, yes?"_

_As Danarius turned back to the crowd and Leto offered a hand to help Freyja to her feet, he finally saw that masked hate come to the surface as she stared at her master's back. Her teeth were bared in a silent snarl when she went to retrieve her weapons. She turned back to Leto with pity mixed in with her hate and motioned for him to follow her. The closer they got to the main house, the more her expression softened to one of submissive hopelessness. At last, she spoke to him with a voice void of expression._

"_You did this to save your mother and sister?"_

"_I did," the young elf replied._

"_Then I'm sorry."_

Freyja was shaking when Fenris broke off the rather lengthy and passionate kiss. He could tell she was in pain; his own markings, even with that relatively brief contact, felt as if they were returning to their molten state. Even as the woman cautiously touched the hot flesh of his arm, he backed away.

"I'm sorry. I can't risk hurting you."

She promptly closed the gap he had created between them, her intense gaze demanding his full attention in the moonlight coming through the window.

"You can't hurt me, Fenris." Her voice was strong and resolved. "My heart was already broken a long time ago. Don't take this away from me. I watched the only family I knew die. And then there was Danarius. Nothing. _Nothing _you do to me can even compare to what I suffered in the presence of that dragon. You even experienced it yourself. But I was his favorite to torment." Fenris looked away, out the window into the darkness. "Yes, you remember."

The elf bowed his head. They had suffered equally during those years.

"I remember."

_The slaves sat before the fire, chuckling to themselves._

"_You should have seen your face when I shot that last raider."_

"_You know, you could have not waited until he was right behind me to dispatch him." _

"_Oh, poor Fenris. I wouldn't have let him hurt you. Besides, what would be the fun in that?"_

"_Indeed."_

_Her chuckles escalated a little._

"_Still…I'll never forget the shock on your face. You may be an admirable warrior, Fenris, but I still have the edge on occasion, even after nine years. Dear lad… What would you do without me?"_

_Fenris was about to shoot back a witty comment, but he grimly cut himself short as he thought of the question. Meanwhile, Freyja continued to suffer from the giggles, seemingly unaware of his thoughtfulness._

_In that moment, one of the house slaves cleared her throat to get their attention from the doorway._

"_Freyja," she announced quietly, "the master has requested your presence."_

_The woman's joviality abruptly ceased._

"_I will go momentarily."_

_Even when the other slave departed, Freyja hung back, staring into the fire. The light had gone out in her eyes. After a moment, her gaze flickered to Fenris. She arose and left without a word.  
_

_Fenris remained in the quiet sitting room, taking the rare time to lounge in the luxurious armchair. He even had time to snatch some food from the kitchens. He was sipping a goblet of spiced wine when Freyja finally returned. _

_She entered the same way she had left – in silence. Fenris remained where he was, at first; however, when the woman began aggressively scratching at the markings on her arms, he rose and opened a hidden drawer under the table. Sitting on the couch beside his companion, the elf opened the canister and dipped his fingers into the precious balm._

"_It's fine," she mumbled, swatting his hand away, but he simply grabbed her wrist securely and gently massaged the ointment into her skin. _

_They didn't speak again until after the warrior slave had finished relieving Freyja's suffering. Once Fenris had replaced the balm in its hiding place, they sat in companionable quiet. For a few minutes, Freyja couldn't bear to look at anything but the crackling fire. He knew that distraught glint in her eyes well. But then, he caught sight of a glittering tear falling from one of her eyes – no sobs, no more tears. He took his cue and pulled her closer. She was resistant at first, but her head was soon rested on his leg._

"_Are you all right?"_

_She simply squeezed the fabric over his knee in a death-grip. She would be all right; they always were. She would wake up the next morning, clueless to the fact that Fenris had stayed up the entire night to watch over her. She would be back to her strong, ruthless, sarcastic self – until the next torment she would endure. He worried for his friend. He waited for the day when Danarius would break one of them and they simply snapped. Under all that strength and passivity, she was an emotional whirlwind – he knew her well enough to see it now every day. _

_As Freyja dropped off to sleep, Fenris automatically stroked her hair, ever so gently. _

* * *

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Merrill giggled and Isabela released a low chuckle. Hawke, who was just as clueless, merely shrugged.

"My little bird," the pirate chortled, "I've seen that look on Aveline's face _and _Merrill's face. You, my dear, are _completely _besotted! Is Mr. Glowey actually that good of a kisser?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," snipped Freyja with a hardly-hidden smile.

"I'll take that as a yes. Too bad I missed my chance."

"Too bad indeed."


	9. Dog Days Are Over

Long wait and a short update...so sorry. I have about twenty pages of patchwork that I'm editing, so the next one should be up soon.

Dog Days Are Over

_And I never wanted anything from you_

_Except everything you had and what was left after that too, oh_

_Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back_

_Struck from a great height by someone who should know better than that._

_-Florence and the Machine_

"Anders, what is going on? Why do you look so distraught?"

The blond mage paced restlessly in the entranceway of the mansion.

"Freyja, I already asked Hawke to cause a distraction for me, but… I hate to ask this of you. You don't have any allegiances or grudges in this particular conflict."

Freyja stood in complete confusion, her hair still dripping a bit from the bath she had taken.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know that Hawke agreed to help me find ingredients for a potion to separate myself from Justice."

"Yes?"

"I lied. It…it's for something else – something terribly important and secret. I couldn't tell Hawke my plan because he was distracting the Grand Cleric."

"You –" She stopped a blinked a few times. "You're telling me, but not _Hawke_?"

"I need someone to be a guard for my…plan after I sneak into the Chantry. It shouldn't take long."

Freyja narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Her tone was reproachful.

"Anders. What are you planning?" He remained mute. "Anders, you know the silent treatment won't work on me. I know you've been getting restless with the conflict between the Circle and the Templars. I know you're not satisfied with the Chantry's reaction. And I know that Justice is becoming more twisted and more powerful by the day." Silence. "Anders, you know I don't need protection." She stepped in front of the pacing man and put a hand securely on his shoulder. "Is this Justice's doing?"

"Someone has to end this stalemate!" he persisted. "The Chantry is the only thing keeping the mages from revolting."

"The Chantry is what's keeping the Templars from your throats," corrected the rogue. The horror of it finally dawned on her as she looked at Anders' resolute expression. "You're going to do something to take the Chantry out of the game! But…how? Anders…you can't."

The mage was suddenly bursting at the seams with a bright light, rage filling his distorted voice.

"Don't try to tell me what is right when mages are being silenced and murdered every day!" Justice bellowed. "That entire structure is to be obliterated. You are not a mage! You do not know what they suffer! The Circle means nothing but servitude!"

Freyja crossed her arms, feathers unruffled.

"But I have seen the worst possible forms of slavery firsthand. _You _do not know what _I _have endured. You only saw a brief shadow of the abuse Danarius was capable of, when I had to spend fourteen years _groveling _at his feet. This is _your _doing. You've changed Anders; he doesn't even know himself anymore."

"Irrelevant. We are one person now."

"You can't just…blow up the Chantry!" Now, she was a little disgruntled. She had become moderately proficient in dealing with Justice, but he had gone too far this time. "I know you are fairly single-minded, but use a little logic for once. How are you going to pull this off? You're going to cause complete chaos."

"Either way, at least this conflict will be come to a head. If I don't do something, this silent slaughter could go on for another twenty years."

Freyja sighed. He did have a point there.

"Let me talk to Anders. _Now._" The glowing finally faded, leaving a rather confused-looking Anders. These blackouts were getting worse. "You're crazy. You know that?"

"I'm not asking for your _approval_. I'm asking for your help."

"Anders." She grabbed the mage's hand and held it in both of her own. "It's almost impossible for me to feel close to anyone…I've practiced not caring so much that, when I'm not angry, I just feel…numb. But you're my friend. I don't want you to get hurt. And I can't see this ending well. As your friend, I can't condone this."

"Is it because Fenris wouldn't approve of you helping a mage?"

"Fenris doesn't tell me what to do," she snipped, letting go of his hand. "He doesn't even know the extent of my questionable career."

"Then, I'm not asking help from my friend. I'm asking the assassin, Freyja."

The assassin. As an assassin, she used all of her life training and blocked out every feeling of remorse to do what she _had_ to do. Of all of the people in their little clan, Anders was always the one who, no matter how crazy Justice could be, would talk her down from her anger or listen without judging. She once thought she had that with Fenris – but those were simpler times – all they had to do was survive and bandage each other's physical and emotional wounds from Danarius. In the real world, Fenris' support was something to be desired – he was full of long-bottled-up bitterness and anger. Too much like Freyja. She had long repaid Fenris for anything she ever owed him. But she still owed Anders.

"I will help you wherever you need me…on two conditions."

"I'm listening."

"First, let me clear out as many of the Chanters as I can."

"That completely ruins the point –"

"It does not. When things start clearing up, we will still need mediators, and members of the Chantry are some of the best. Not all of them are out to get you. It's just what the Chantry represents."

"I thought you were on my side."

Freyja sighed and massaged her temple. Why was she doing this, again?

"I _am_. But hurting people who don't deserve it…it's wrong."

"You're one to talk."

"Remember when you talked me down from killing that ship captain? You owe me for that."

He gave a begrudging grunt of consent under her dark scowl.

"And?"

"After this, there's going to be complete madness in Kirkwall…and the rest of the Free Marches, for that matter. It won't be safe for you. I want to find a way to separate you and Justice."

"I have spent the past several years researching it. What makes you think you'll be any more successful? You're not even –"

"Just because I'm not a mage doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two. Keep in mind that Danarius was overly fond of tracking down the dark and forbidden. Someone must know."

"What of Fenris?"

She sighed and traced the markings on her left arm, a little unsure of how to answer.

"We're not… Neither of us wants to hurt the other."

"Meaning he rejected you after stealing your heart?"

"Not… There's too much happening, and it's more sentiment than either of us has time for right now."

Anders' jaw nearly dropped.

"That is the most pitiful excuse I have _ever _heard in my _life._"

"It's…the markings. He simply kissed me and it was like I was having them carved into my flesh all over again. And then there were the visions. Fenris said that he remembered us meeting, but I saw something completely different…like a memory that I didn't know existed, even though I am not aware of any of my memories being taken."

The mage's expression had softened considerably.

"Perhaps, then, we can help each other…if we live through this. You may want to reconsider, though. You are aware of Fenris' feelings towards mages. He may very well turn his back on you if it comes to taking sides."

She sighed.

"Especially now. He will make his own choices, Anders. Whether I'm part of that will become apparent."

* * *

"Freyja?"

Freyja nearly jumped out of her skin as Fenris came up behind her and put his strong hand on her shoulder. He joined her in looking out the window. There was unrest in the streets. There were not just thugs prowling, but also Templar patrols bullying Guardsman patrols and an occasional mage slipping in and out of the shadows. One person was already lying dead on the ground, having been stabbed in the back by an assassin in the dark. For most cutthroats, this was the prime night for fulfilling contracts unnoticed. But not for Freyja. Thanks to Hawke sticking his nose in everything, she knew that the Templar-Mage conflict was quickly coming to a head and was ready to explode at any moment. And she knew, roughly, what was to come.

"You were out late," she commented blandly, folding her arms around her waist and not looking at her companion.

She knew where she stood in this crisis; she may have not loved everything the mages wanted, but she refused to stand by the Templars. But what would Fenris do? If it came down to it and she stuck with Anders – she wasn't one to break a promise – would he follow or turn on her? She knew him to be fiercely loyal to her, but being blindsided with this when he hated Mages so much… She couldn't tell him her plan to help Anders in destroying the Chantry; he would tie her to a bedpost and leave her there until she saw sense.

"I expected you to be hunting down a bounty or killing off one of your contenders while no one was looking in this madness."

"Tonight is not a night for that. Too much competition. Too much tension. Too much about to happen."

"You sense it as well?"

The corners of her lips twitched upward and she took a deep breath of the warm city air. The breeze courteously puffed a strand of hair out of her face.

"Keep in mind who helped you hone those skills, elf."

A deep chuckle. A chilling chuckle. An invigorating chuckle. Did he know what that sound did to her?

They hadn't really talked about the kiss since it happened, despite the teasing and prodding of their companions. It wasn't just Fenris' fault. Too much was happening in this city-state, and the rogue was automatically distancing and preparing herself for a quick move. Much would be happening and she needed her mind sharp. Still, as always, Fenris managed to distract her anyway. An image of him and his roguish smirk or the sound of his intoxicating voice seemed to constantly sit in the back of her mind.

No matter how hard she tried, he always managed to do that. He was her motivation to go on, and he was her weakness. She was a fierce and ruthless fighter who didn't have to care; but, if Fenris was in danger, she turned into some feeble youngster. She was a grown woman, yet she couldn't help but marvel for a second any time she saw Fenris fight. If he walked into a room without his shirt on, she couldn't look at him without her cheeks burning. When he spoke, she had to consciously school her face to not show that a piece of her heart was simply melting. He was her weakness. If he turned away from her… A fluttering knot started forming in her gut as her anxiety continued escalating.

"Much is about to change," she stated more calmly than she felt, interlocking her fingers in his. She wanted to cherish this short moment. "Let's not forget these years in Kirkwall."

Fenris held onto her hand securely, but said nothing.


	10. Disbanded

Disbanded

Where was the Grand Cleric? She had guarded Anders while he set up his magical contraption. She had made sure that it was well hidden when she left. She had gotten five Chanters out – that been interesting, trying to come up with excuses for each of them. But the Grand Cleric did not deserve to die! All she had ever done was try to keep the mages and Templars from slaughtering each other.

Freyja jogged down the stairs into the main entry of the Chantry and looked questioningly at the front doors. Maybe the Grand Cleric was already outside? Either way, the building was about to be blown sky-high and, as much as she wanted to preserve sanity, the woman also wanted to save her own skin. Resolved, she slipped out through the massive doors and discovered a crowd forming below. Among the people amassing were Hawke, Anders, Fenris, and the other companions. She approached cautiously as the Knight-Commander and head mage argued, and shrunk into the shadows when it appeared that they might head her way.

"You will not bring her Grace into this!" Meridith barked. That was when Anders appeared from the crowd. Freyja had one last thought of regret before deciding finally to stand by him. This stalemate had to end. Anders understood. She was a killer and had even been abandoned by her own people. Someone had to do this; why not them – the misfits?

"The Grand Cleric cannot help you!"

"Explain yourself, mage!"

"I will not stand by and watch you treat all mages like criminals, while those who would lead us bow to their Templar jailors!"

Orsino growled defensively.

"How dare you speak to me –!"

"The Circle has failed us, Orsino." Justice burst to life for a moment as Anders' anger grew. "Even you should be able to see that. The time has come to act." The apostate looked vaguely back at Freyja with regret. "There can be no half measures."

"Anders…" Hawke looked at his friend in shock. "What have you done?"

"There can be no turning back."

As Freyja glanced at the Chantry, she saw Hawke's look of realization and betrayal. The ground shook for a few seconds before a demonic red light burst from every seam and window, shooting blinding rays into the sky and towards the watchers in the square. Gigantic chunks of stone were torn from the foundations and spiraled upward as the pinnacle of light drew the clouds and rock into a vast, glowing vortex. The roar of sound ceased in a blink of pure silence. Then, it happened. The blast sent a deafening shockwave through the city, and the Chantry was no more.

The odd collection of spectators was staring at the destruction in horror of the coming repercussions. The Chantry stood for order and peace in the Free Marches. The Grand Cleric had been the one who held the leashes of the Templars and mages, and kept them from each other's throats. No more. Despite the terror of everyone else, Anders remained stalwart, and no one had yet guessed Freyja's involvement.

"There can be no peace."

"Why?" Orsino cried, turning angrily on the rebel. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"I removed the chance of compromise because there is no compromise."

"The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic," Meredith sneered, her righteous, overzealous blood boiling. "The Chantry destroyed! As Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Right of Annulment. Every mage in the Circle is to be executed. Immediately!"

"The Circle didn't even do this," Orsino protested now that his life was on the line. "Champion, you can't let her! Help us stop this madness!"

"And I demand you stand with us! Even you must see that this outrage cannot be tolerated!"

While the other companions voiced their own opinions, the female rogue looked sadly at her partner-in-crime. Especially now, she could see how Justice's anger had taken over. He refused to look Hawke in the eyes and clearly was upset about hurting him, but there was no guilt.

"Was that…why you needed me to distract the Grand Cleric?" Hawke asked in disgust.

"If you knew what I was doing, you would have felt honor-bound to stop me. I couldn't take that chance." Freyja shifted uncomfortably and then stopped when she noticed Fenris' eyes on her. Did he suspect? The churning pit in her stomach was back. "The Circle is an injustice, in many places beyond Kirkwall. The world needs to see."

"You fool!" Orsino interjected again. "You've doomed us all!"

"We were already doomed. A quick death now or a slow one later – I'd rather die fighting."

"You're a murderer." Freyja could feel her cheeks reddening as Hawke stared down Anders. She was responsible too, even if she didn't plant the bomb. She knew the cause was good and part of her didn't care that people died to get the result – she was an assassin, after all – but seeing the wrath of the people who had adopted her into their awkward family made her queasy. "The Grand Cleric, the mages…their blood is on your hands!"

"I know."

"Anders," Freyja whispered when the attention was directed to more debate. The mage stiffly turned his head in her direction. It took more effort than she cared to admit to not slip into the shadows and disappear forever. By even considering helping Anders in this, she had proven herself unworthy of the respect given by her friends – that, more than the deaths, gnawed at her insides like a cancer. Her old life taught her deception and survival – perhaps it had left more of a scar than she thought. Their brief moment of eye contact allowed for enough of her emotions to be conveyed. She had spent a lifetime fighting against her raging anger and fear that always seemed to follow her.

But then, Fenris spoke. The hate in his voice, while not directed at her, made Freyja's heart shrivel. He wouldn't understand why she did this. Why _did _she do this? Out of friendship for Anders? Because she felt she was beyond redemption? Anders needed a companion in this venture, and she was the most logical choice – she had nothing to lose.

"No. I won't fight to save these mages…not for you, not for anyone."

Those words cut unexpectedly deep. But what had she expected? A line had suddenly formed between those standing with the mages and those against. Freyja, having not moved throughout this debate, found herself standing across from her broody elf. Not for anyone. He had meant her. That was the reminder – she really did have nothing to lose. Hardening herself, Freyja looked straight into Fenris' stony eyes before he walked away and they were attacked.

As the woman whipped out her daggers to block a Templar's attack, she glanced one last time at her old friend's retreating back. Yet again abandoned. Why had she even tried?

Freyja dove between the giant man's legs, sliced his calves, and stabbed him in the back of the neck under his helmet when he fell to his knees. She swiftly rolled to the side, yanking her knife with her as a second Templar's sword _whooshed_ by where her head had just been one second ago. When she stood, a blast of frost rushed by within inches of her face and turned the Templar into a tower of ice; next thing, Hawke shattered him with a single swing. She looked behind her to find a stoic Anders. She didn't know what to think.

All of the Templars that had been left to finish them off were strewn about on the ground, lifeless. Freyja wiped off the blood that had splattered on her nose and looked doubtfully at Orsino's grief.

"So it's come to this. I don't know if we can win this war, Champion, but…thank you." He then scowled at Anders, who had taken up residence on an out-of-the-way crate with a distant gaze. "I will leave your…friend for you to deal with. I must return to the Gallows. Meet me there as soon as you can."

Back to being the center of attention, he didn't need to look at anyone to know they were angry as he offered his defense.

"There's nothing you can say that I haven't already said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited."

"Did that spirit tell you to do this?" Hawke spat.

"No. When we merged, he ceased to be. We are one now. I can no more ignore the injustice of the Circle than he could."

"I might have understood if you'd only told me."

"I wanted to tell you. But what if you stopped me? Or worse, what if you wanted to help? I couldn't let you do that. The world needs to see this. Then we can all stop pretending the Circle is a solution."

"So you start a massacre to prove a point?"

"I'm not proving a point. I'm changing a world. You've never been part of a Circle. I have. The people fear what we can do, but to use that fear to bludgeon us into submission is wrong! And they do it with our blessing! And if I pay for that with my life…then I pay. Perhaps then Justice would at least be free."

"Opinions?"

"Bold plan," Isabela admitted. "Well, I thought so."

Everyone else gave their various opinions until it came to Freyja…

"Freyja? Thoughts?" She once more stared after where Fenris had departed. She had stood by this mage and her oldest friend was now standing with the Templars. Hawke assumed that this was all that was on her mind.

"Whatever you do, just do it," begged Anders. What would she do if Hawke actually decided to kill the mage?

"Just go."

The harshness of Hawke's command cut into Freyja's heart with unexpected malice. She considered him – and all the others – the closest thing she had to a friend in…far too long.

"Thank you for my life. I'll try not to make such a mess of it this time."

This was it. With a set jaw, Freyja stepped to follow her chosen companion in exile.

"Freyja." Hawke's summons stopped her in her tracks, where she stood rigidly. "You – you helped him?"

"Hawke, I'm…sorry. I thought I could change things, but…I have demons of my own. I didn't deserve my own family; I don't deserve this one."

Freyja slowly turned back, her eyes flickering from one remaining companion to another. They all looked shocked that she was making this decision. They knew that she and Anders were close friends, but she hadn't been closer to him compared to anyone else. They couldn't understand.

"He needs my help," she said simply. "And, no matter how this conflict ends, this company will not long last. Hawke, thank you for everything."

Not knowing how she would react to whatever Hawke was going to say next, she bolted away.

Even as they ran around the next bend, Freyja stopped dead in her tracks, squatting down as nausea overtook her.

"Freyja, are you all right?" Anders came back to her, placing a calming hand on her back. "We did what we had to do."

"No," she growled through barred teeth, "you did what you had to do. I… I'm an assassin; killing does not bother me, but to see the looks on their faces was…"

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize this bothered you so much."

"No! Justice didn't care."

"You saved people."

"I also helped to slaughter dozens of innocents! And Fenris…" She brushed off his hand and stood. "I'm going to him."

Anders chuckled darkly.

"An angry Fenris is not a forgiving. He'll likely run you through before he knows it's you. And, if he doesn't kill you, the Knight-Commander will certainly do the job, once she finds out you helped me."

"That's what I'm hoping for."

This time, his hold on her arm was firm.

"You're not serious, are you?! You knew what you were doing when you agreed to help me."

"Did I? All I think about is how I can best survive – it has been drilled into me for longer than I care to admit. I'm able to detach myself from things in a way that even I don't understand. Fenris use to give me someone to think about other than myself, but then…"

"You got too close and I suddenly gave you a way out?"

"What have I done? I didn't want to change the world, Anders. I just wanted… I want things to be simple again."

"Freyja, by doing this, we are forcing mages and Templars to face each other. The oppression will be over." More gently, he continued. "As for Fenris, he walked away from you with the full knowledge that you might killed by one of the Templars back there. He turned his back on you. If I understood correctly, that's not the first time he abandoned you." Freyja stared with an unspoken threat. "Has he ever done anything as selfless for you as you have done for him?"

"That is completely irrelevant."

"Is it? He seems to me more of an animal than a man. Has he ever thought through anything? Is he really deserving of such loyalty?" All the lives. Freyja stared at nothing, suddenly recalling Fenris' intense eyes and the touch of his lips. And the look of betrayal. "Is he? You tried to save him from a fate worse than death on countless occasions, after he did nothing to earn it. He does not deserve you offering your life to him now. There is a darkness inside of him that will never let him see beyond his anger and fear. Deep down, he'll always be a slave."

The rogue was glaring daggers.

"Anders… I have that same darkness inside me. How can I make you understand? The suffering of the Mages of this Circle was _nothing _compared to what we suffered. Fenris is the only who knows. We were each other's sanctuary during those years, and I turned my back on him."

"Are you saying that you should have fought with the Templars?"

"No! I just wish I had never agreed to help you. The more I think about it…" She pointed an accusing finger at him, hot tears threatening to fall. "I betrayed my best friend for your cause, mage. You owe me! He was my companion-at-arms for half of my life and I…" She bowed her head in defeat. How had she not thought this through? This was why she had only ever had loyalty to Fenris. He conflicted so much with the rest of the world; one additional loyalty on her part ruined everything. "I've lost him, but my nature is to survive – to shut everything out and just do what I have to do. I use to have him to protect – someone other than myself. All I ever do alone is survive."

Freyja unexpectedly found herself leaning into her friend's embrace. His coat smelled like smoke, blood, and sweat, but there was still a hint of his calming musk.

"You think you're the only ones with darkness? I'm bound with a spirit and just instigated a war by destroying a Chantry. You're not alone, Freyja. Don't forget that."


	11. Shatter Me

Shatter Me

"You didn't have to come with me, you know. We were all going our separate ways. If the…well, if _anyone _finds me, I'm as good as dead. You sure you want to risk yourself by being in my company?"

"I helped you complete that dark deed, Anders. I am almost just as guilty as you. I could also say that you didn't have to come with me. For all we know, my kin are all murderers and thieves. My task took an hour; this may take weeks."

"Ah yes, but, by helping me with my mission, you assisted in starting a war."

"True."

Anders looked fondly at his unexpected friend. Out of all his companions of the past several years, the former slave was not one he would have suspected of running off with him on a hopeless quest as fugitives.

They had hired a small ship to head West on the Minanter River, thanks to the saved coin that Freyja had managed to pick up before they had fled Kirkwall. They would depart in Hasmal, in the warmongering country of Nevarra; from there, they would travel to the Hundred Pillars, a massive mountain range on the Eastern side of the Tevinter Imperium.

As their voyage to discover a way to separate Anders and Justice did not have a specific heading, they were traveling to find Freyja's people. Ever since she got close to Fenris, she had been having dreams of her old village that didn't connect with any of her memories. The more she thought about her childhood home, the more she realized that she couldn't easily recall many details. She didn't remember her father, whether she had any other family, or whether there were any mages among them. Most importantly, she couldn't recall _why_ she and her female relatives had been traveling through Tevinter in the first place if their society was such a jealously kept secret.

"Do you have any theories?"

"Concerning what?"

"Why you left your colony."

The woman leaned her head against the planking of the vessel's hull, her facial markings shimmering in the light of the full moon.

"I don't know. I should apologize, Anders. Ever since these…memories started surfacing, I have become more volatile, when I was once in control over my reactions. For all I know, I committed some horrible crime and was being led to my execution. Or we could have been simply visiting some relatives. I don't like not knowing."

"Are you still protecting Fenris?"

Her focus shot straight to the mage, not having expected that question. Her voice, body, and face were all tense. She was clearly regretting her earlier allowance for Anders to ask any questions he liked.

"No."

"Really? Because you seemed pretty satisfied that he would not accompany us. And here we are traveling back to Tevinter, where you are just as likely to be once more enslaved as you are to find answers. That elf is a hopeless, destructive, bigoted spoilsport. What has he done to earn your loyalty like that?"

"From the very first moment when I knew that he was going to be my companion-at-arms for the long haul, I fought my hate and desire for self-preservation, while at the same wanting to ensure that he would have more of a chance at freedom than me. Danarius took _everything _from me: my family, my freedom, my happiness, my childhood, my future. In the end, he did the same for Fenris. We were the same, but I thought he could have more of a chance than I. I tried to protect him while we were slaves, and I failed."

"Well, for your sake, wherever he is, I hope he's much drier and warmer than we are right now."

Freyja laughed, pointedly looking up at the drizzling sky.

* * *

"Do you know what you're going to find? Or at least an idea?" Anders huffed, using his staff as a walking stick on the steep mountainside.

The ground was dry, but snow was beginning to dust everything in sight. They had been on these mountains for nearly four days now. Their fingers were numb and, if not for Anders' abilities to light a fire at will, they would have probably faced hypothermia the night previously. This terrain was surprisingly frigid; however, it didn't help that winter was well on its way.

"I don't know. I was always so jealous of Fenris' memory being taken and scolded him whenever he wanted to find his past. Now I find a large piece of my own childhood missing and all I can do is drag the closest thing I have to a friend up a snowy cliff in search of Andraste-knows-what. I think it's a village, but I just have this flickering image of a lot of feet and a cat. I used to think that it was normal – not having many vivid memories from your youth – but the images I've been seeing lately just don't make sense. I thought I remembered having a happy, if secretive, childhood before Danarius came along. But, compared to these visions, those memories seem foggy and distorted."

"And you're sure it was your mother and sister you were traveling with when Danarius captured you?"

"That is as clear as day. But, if we were so secretive in our lives, why would my family be traveling across the plains, out in the open? It doesn't make sense now. I just hope my instincts aren't leading me into the middle of nowhere for nothing."

"Do you see that?"

Freyja stopped short and would have fallen back downhill if not for Anders behind her for support. They clambered to the top of the ridge before she took the chance of looking.

"See what?" The mage pointed toward a break in the evergreens in the distant mist. The snow was getting heavier, but Freyja could barely make out what looked like a trail of smoke. "It looks…distorted. I'm surprised you even spotted it."

"Someone is trying to hide it with magic." Freyja jerked her head toward her companion in surprise. She didn't recall any mages in her village. "Are you sure you want to continue on this path?"

The woman didn't answer, but instead wrapped her cloak tighter and began picking her way down the precipitous bluff.

Nightfall was already closing in by the time they reached dependable ground again. They had managed to arrive in a large valley – or so it seemed in the deepening snow – and, so far, there was no sign of life beyond the continued flicker of smoke. The towering plant life seemed to stifle any noise caused by their footsteps; occasionally, a pile of snow would drop from a branch with a dull _thud_.

"Anders! Stay where you are," Freyja suddenly hissed, her hushed voiced cutting through the silence like a knife. It wasn't a peaceful silence, either. There was danger and alarmed tension, enough to snap a bowstring. The rogue slipped cautiously forward, shuffling her feet to check for traps, to where her companion had obediently frozen in place.

"What is it?"

Without a word, she stood behind Anders, grabbed his belt, and drew him at creeping pace backwards about ten feet. In equal silence, she moved beside him and prepared an arrow. The brush had been cleared back perfectly for a widespread trap – something she would have done herself – but there was no sign of a trigger, meaning it was magic.

"You don't sense it?"

"No?"

"Brilliant," she growled, shooting her arrow straight at where Anders' head had been only moments previously.

A grid of vivid blue fire burst into existence between the two trees and, for a brief second, the arrow was held suspended in its grasp. Freyja cocked her head, perplexed. But, then, the fire suddenly grew brighter and began to hum threateningly. She dropped to a defensive crouch just as the explosion assaulted her ears. When she looked up, Anders was releasing the force field he had erected with magic. Miniscule shards of the arrow had been dispatched in a million directions and embedded in the shrubbery.

"If they weren't expecting us before, they know we're coming now."

"Anders…" Freyja paused a little shakily. She was plenty confident in her abilities and was plenty independent, but seeing the power and hostility of these people, even if they were her kin, was not encouraging.

The man put his strong hand on her shoulder.

"There is not a chance in all the world of me abandoning you."

After that incident, they proceeded with extreme caution. The trees were beginning to thin, but they had to maneuver around three more traps before finding anything substantial. Then, the trees just dropped away.

It wasn't a village. It was a large town! While it was made up mostly of small lodges, the adventurers couldn't see where the settlement ended. There were a number of lookout posts in sight, but no walls protected it. The outer dwellings had roofs angled away from the forest so that a citizen could easily hide up there, spy on those below, and prepare an attack without being touched. At first, it appeared to be deserted; however, that idea was swiftly demolished.

At least two-dozen men and women appeared at the edge of the town from between and on top of the houses, most armed. It was a strange sight. It wasn't merely defenders with bows and swords; there were archers, warriors, and mages, all standing together – not one class above the other, but together. Freyja's initial reaction was to draw her ready bow tight, but she hesitantly lowered it again upon realizing the stupidity of such a prospect. Setting a trap and slaughtering a dozen idiotic soldiers on her own turf was one thing; but this was completely different. Their greeters created a path between them into the village in a silent command.

"Be ready to run for the trees, Anders," she whispered before leading the way and lowering her hood to get a better look around.

The guards escorted them further into the town toward the distant market square. The rest of the village seemed to be lively enough; the outskirts and their path had just been cleared to avoid detection. But how had they not noticed the life before entering? Magic? The market square was a little bigger than the Alienage in Kirkwall, and much cleaner.

A tall mage with broad shoulders, greying black hair, and pale blue eyes emerged from one of the closest houses with a shorter but still imposing sword-and-shield warrior in his wake. The duo came to a stop outside the house, standing side-by-side with perplexed and suspicious expressions. They glanced at Anders, but mostly studied the female newcomer. Freyja couldn't help but stare. Looking at the eyes of either man was like looking in a mirror – and they were just as cold.

"Interesting markings you have," the older man noted, his voice regretful but hard. It wasn't exactly the welcome statement she had hoped for, not that she knew what to expect anyway. "How did you come by them?"

"My master gave them to me…as a sadistic gift."

"Your 'master'?"

"I was a slave for fourteen years. A mage took me captive…after I left here," she explained carefully. His eye twitched and younger man's eyes widened a bit. "You recognize me, don't you?"

"But you do not remember this place?"

"Beyond a few flashes, no."

The mage sighed – perhaps in relief – and waved to the guards. All members of their escort but three (an archer, a mage, and a warrior) dissipated into the village and the guests were invited into the house. Freyja hadn't realized how cold she was until the heat of the fireplace in the main hall of the lodge hit her. The building comprised of a long room with a fire, a sitting area, and a long dining table, and smaller halls and rooms branching off from there. The guests and their two hosts sat on the couches near the fire while the guards lounged at the table. No offered food or drink; just those cold stares.

"My name is Rodrick."

Freyja was finally fed up.

"You're my father, aren't you? I thought you were dead."

"That's what I intended," the man stated, his voice softening a bit as he leaned back in his chair. "Altering that much of your memory was…trying." No regret there. "You are upset, naturally. But you can at least appreciate the effort it took to not simply wipe your memory. You wouldn't have gone with your mother and sister if you didn't know who they were. That was simply your nature."

The woman worked her jaw, trying and failing to find an excuse to be sympathetic. Her voice, therefore, was just as unforgiving as her apparent sire's tone from earlier.

"Why? My _life_…was no life."

"Your mother and sister's task was to get you beyond reach of this place. Where you ended up after that was not our concern."

"They _died_. Danarius _killed _them. How can you be so callous?"

"Leon and I have had time to cope." Freyja realized she was looking at her own brother. "And I am _not _being callous." Apparently, there was a temper under there after all. "We have been shaped by hard lives here."

"Why all the secrecy?" Anders suddenly asked, clearly noting that Freyja was ready to explode. Rodrick seemed pleased with the change.

"My people came to this valley a long time ago, during my grandfather's youth. Most came from Tevinter, the Free Marches…anywhere where there was an uneven balance of power between those with and without magic."

"But…how did you manage to make it work. In the Free Marches, war has broken out because they can't find a compromise. I've almost given up hope on a solution."

"As you may have seen with your escort, we have tried to make everything an even share among the various classes. Everyone has a say, but the leaders are ultimately one mage and one non-mage that are either married or otherwise related. When that line is broken it moves on to another family by majority vote of all adults in the village. Years ago, I led with my wife; now, I lead with my son. When I die or decide to step down, it will continue with my son, if he has married a mage; if not, it changes."

"Fascinating."

"Yes, fascinating," Freyja drawled, leaning forward. She was beginning to feel trapped and her fingers itched to grasp the daggers that were still on her hips. "Care to explain why you decided to ruin _my _life?"

Rodrick pursed his lips as if a child had just begun a tantrum.

"You were sentenced to exile."

"I was _sixteen_."

"That is our age of adulthood. I couldn't protect you any more than I did."

"And, by protecting, you mean sending two other women with me to dump me in the middle of nowhere?"

"We needed to know that you were safely far away. You _killed _an outsider who was scouting for the Imperium in cold blood. We set traps, wipe memories, and kill if directly attacked, but we do _not kill _needlessly. What you did was one of our greatest crimes. And you had no remorse for what you did."

"Did you look into the circumstances? Maybe it was self-defense."

"It was not."

"Fun fact: It's a cruel world out there – kill or be killed."

"You only prove my point. That is not how we function. Excuses are a poor cover. Clearly, these years have not taught you that lesson," he sighed.

Freyja's markings surged to life as she stood, causing all present but Anders to reach for their weapons.

"I witnessed my mother and sister's _murder_! I was taken into _slavery_! I was tortured and abused in the worst ways imaginable! I had _molten lyrium _poured into my flesh and it causes me agony every day! I have fallen in love and held back my feelings because it would destroy me. I have come to the edge of death a hundred times. I don't expect to be welcomed with open arms, but give me a little credit! If I could show you what I have been through, I would. Then you would not be so hasty to disregard my experiences and condemn me for surviving. It's the only thing I know. And you are responsible."

Apparently, Rodrick and Leon had not expected this. The older man remained silent, puzzled. It was her brother who spoke this time – his voice just as warm as his father's was cold.

"We never said that you couldn't come back; we simply wanted you to understand."

Freyja sat down with a huff.

"That was not the impression I got from dear Daddy."

"Now that you're back and you have been through so much, it only makes sense that you should stay. Besides…" He glanced at Rodrick. "It wouldn't be good for…security reasons for you to go back out there. We would probably cause permanent damage if we tried altering your memory again." She narrowed her eyes. That still didn't sound like open arms. "So, admittedly, you're sort of stuck here. But your...companion must depart as soon as possible. Our society depends on the absence of outsiders who come with ill intent or mere curiosity."

"I don't intend to leave my friend as your prisoner," Anders spoke up, no longer enchanted by these people.

"She's my sister, not a hostage, good sir. We simply have very strict rules. You have no choice in this matter."

Rodrick stirred once more.

"Clearly, you have no more business here, young man. The shorter your stay here is, the easier it will be." The three guards took their cue and stood. "These young people will make sure you make a safe departure."

"I don't understand," muttered the concerned abomination. He met Freyja's wide-eyed gaze. She shook her head frantically, either in panic or because she knew that this was usually the sort of moment when Justice decided to say his piece. He managed to maintain control, however.

"Your journey to find us will be erased. The rest of your memory will remain intact. I'll be sure you're not left in hostile territory. All the luck to you."

As Anders slowly walked toward the door, he looked back at Freyja, not sure what to do. They were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by Andraste knew how many fighters and mages. They wouldn't live through a conflict against them. Freyja stepped towards him, but Leon discouraged her with a light hand on her arm.

"Anders," she said, "find the others. If you forget all else, remember that. Find Fenris!"

As the door shut, Rodrick nodded in satisfaction.

"Leon, would you care to get Lara settled somewhere?"

Freyja did a double take at the use of her old name, but her father was already disappearing down a hall. She sat down once more, suddenly realizing that she was alone – really, truly alone – for the first time in years. She didn't have Hawke and his crew to come save her. Fenris didn't even know where she was (and perhaps didn't care) and Anders would soon not even remember that they had made this trek together. Leon's hand encompassing her own threw her off-balance in her thinking.

"I'm sorry."

She scowled, finally getting a good look at the young warrior. He was a little taller than her and very broad in the shoulders. His blue eyes were dreamy and his short golden hair fell in unruly waves over his brow. Lady magnet. Her brother.

"Why are you sorry?"

"The village has its rules for a reason, but sometimes…I think rules should be bent. I remembered the day you killed that man. I was thirteen years old. You had gone on patrol by yourself in the outer borders. You came back home just…covered in blood; I think you were in shock. Father asked what had happened and you said that you killed a trespasser before he hit one of the traps. I don't recall what the trap was exactly, but you insisted that the man would have died the worst of deaths and you would have had to watch him suffer.

"You never could stand seeing others get hurt." Freyja snorted a laugh. That tune had certainly changed. "When father announced your punishment, you just…took it. Mother and Lena volunteered to escort you once your memory was erased. They hated father for sending you away like that; since Mother was co-leader, such a show of defiance nearly caused a riot against Father."

"Why didn't it happen?"

Leon shrugged.

"Father has a way with words."

"If he does these things, why let him continue?"

"Trust me. We could do worse. Father has his faults, but he is aware of them. He knows he can be a bit power-hungry and he fights against that."

"That's no excuse for…this," she spat. "I have learned no lessons from having my memories taken and being dropped into the ether. I am only bitter."

Leon bowed his head sadly.

"I really hope you'll see us differently once you get to know us. It's been difficult ever since we lost you and Lena and Mother."


	12. Lost Cause

Lost Cause

Fenris stalked into the inn and instantly felt the cold begin leaving his bones. During the weeks following the outbreak of war in the Free Marches, he had been traveling from place to place, taking jobs as a hired blade or bodyguard for those traveling on the treacherous roads. He had nothing better to do with his life at the moment. Since Hawke and his companions went their separate ways, the elf had been…waiting. But waiting for what? He didn't know.

He sat down at a table in the corner and ordered himself a drink and a meager meal. Whether he would stay here tonight was still unknown. When he was halfway through his food, someone sat down beside him, but he didn't even look at the newcomer. Fenris was not in the mood for work. He had just spent a week tolerating a Ferelden noble he had escorted from the Free Marches; he didn't want to deal with any more noblemen for a good while. At least the pay had been good.

"I'm not for hire," he grunted simply. "I would suggest finding another poor slob to do your dirty work."

"Unlikely," a familiar voice scoffed. Fenris' gaze found Anders leaning against the table, staring into a drink of his own. The mage appeared exhausted and his clothes were travel-worn, but he was alive. "Fancy meeting you here. You look tired, Fenris. How long has it been since we parted ways?"

"Seven weeks, give or take."

He went back to his drink, but the other man chuckled uneasily.

"Has it really been that long?"

"It seems like an eternity." Anders had gone silent and drank deeply from his ale – strange indeed. "Where is Freyja? Did she not travel with you? Or did she finally grow weary of your nauseating presence and constant whimpering?"

"That's…sort of what I need to talk to you about. I was actually hoping…" The dark circles under his eyes seemed to deepen. "I'm glad I found you here, Fenris. I've been wandering for days, from town to town, trying to figure out how I got here."

That caught the elf's interest.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can remember leaving Kirkwall and Freyja traveling with me, but… After that, the first thing I remember is waking up in a snow-bank just outside a town not far from here."

"Does you demon friend not have any answers?"

"Justice is just as confused, I think. He's been awfully quiet. It's almost like he isn't even there."

"Hm. An improvement."

"This is no laughing matter, elf," Anders snapped angrily. "I know Freyja can take care of herself, but she risked her life to help a cause that was not her own, and I don't even know where she is. I don't know if she's alive. I don't even know if she made it out beyond Kirkwall, or if she's dead or captured, or if she simply left. I can't remember anything!"

"What do you mean you can remember?" The elf's voice turned into a low growl at the thought of this powerful mage losing his memory and his friend having disappeared into thin air. "Where were you headed?"

"Well…we had two plans: find a way to separate me and Justice, and find her kin."

"Well, you clearly did not succeed in your first endeavor." Fenris finished off his ale. "I'm going to find her. And you're coming with me."

"Fenris." The elf paused, but did not turn back. "Even after what happened before we left?"

"Anders… You were not there for the rest of the battle at Kirkwall. I ultimately fought at Hawke's side and…I realized that those who hate mages are capable of the same evil as the mages themselves. Your kind do not deserve to rule, but neither should you be slaves. I've...had time to think."

"Well," Anders sniffed smugly, "that's quite a switch from turning your back on your oldest friend and leaving her to die. I've never seen that girl so close to heartbreak as when you walked away from her like a sad - " Fenris whipped around and punched the mage, knocking him clean off his feet. What surprised him was that Anders started chuckling mischievously even as he wiped the blood from his mouth. "Good to know. Shall we go now? There's a place here where we can get supplies. And there's a storyteller who might know a few things about Freyja's kin."

"You really think that's where she is?"

"That was our destination. And Justice seems to think that's where we'll find her."

"So we're trusting the directions of a spirit that motivated you to start a war. Brilliant."

* * *

"Hello there." Leon greeted his sister with a kind smile as he lounged next to her on the sitting room couch. She was curled up with a warm tunic and a book, her hair flowing loosely down her back. "How are you settling in?"

Her voice was carefully soft and neutral.

"You hide very well the fact that I don't exactly have a choice in that matter."

"In order to protect ourselves, pretty much anyone who discovers this place and is sent away has their memory erased…at least the part with their journey here. It's been the law since long before you and I even existed." He laughed lightly – a warm, pleasant sound – but it was stifled with discomfort. "You know, it's funny that you come back now." He noticed her bland confusion and lost the crooked smile. "Father has been growing weaker lately, and we're not sure why. He won't let any of our healers near him. I think he may only last another year.

"If you had come back earlier, he may have been less paranoid and more willing to let you go. Maybe. Right now, he's concerned about the legacy he's going to leave behind and who will replace him." Freyja's lack of concern must have shown. For a brief time, she had been excited to find her father, but he had done nothing to win her respect, and she didn't even remember the man. "He's mostly concerned about keeping leadership in the family. You know, I wouldn't have to deal with him hounding me about finding a magical bride if you were a mage. It would make things so much simpler!"

Freyja unintentionally flinched. She didn't mind magicians – she even liked a few of them – but she had seen too much evil done by those people to not feel nauseated if she thought about it for too long now. Two of the most significant men in her life – Danarius and her father – were mages who had ruined her existence.

"Don't you dare."

Again, he seemed to see deeper into her thoughts. Her past was full of scars that wouldn't stay buried.

"That slave master was really that bad? Well, you're safe here."

"I don't want to be just safe. I have to be free. I spent fourteen years 'safe' and I spent years after that hiding in fear. I want to do more with my life. This safety of yours is turning me into a caged animal."

"Lara." He paused, thought about correcting himself, and decided to keep with using her old name. "There's something you should know. I shouldn't tell you this, but…"

"What is it?"

"Murder wasn't actually the real reason why you were sent away. Father knew that you had killed that intruder in self-defense, technically speaking, but it was the perfect chance for him to quietly solve the problem you were causing. You were always a bit curious about the outside world – the cultures, the people, the adventures, the thrill of it all – but, as you got older, you started talking about leaving the village to chase after your dreams. You said that you didn't see any future here for yourself. And you got so passionate about it that other young people were starting to talk about going on adventures of their own before settling down."

"What was wrong with that?"

"Our society depends on having a harmonious community _right here._ If we let people wander off and come back as they please, we would become known. There are countries on all sides that would try to destroy us. When you started dreaming like you did…it could have turned disastrous very quickly. In a way, father was doing you a favor – giving you what you wanted while keeping order."

Freyja sat forward suddenly, her furious face only inches from her brother's.

"If my independent thoughts, hopes, and dreams – my hunger for freedom – are so dangerous, why doesn't he just kill me or wipe my memory again and send me on my merry way?"

Leon stuttered for a moment.

"It would… We couldn't… If we sent you off again, having already so carefully altered your memory before, we would have to completely suppress your memory; too much has happened that could trigger memories of your search for us. But, if we did that, we don't know how much of _you _would be left or how safe you would be out there."

"I've seen it done before," Freyja suggested coldly, curling her feet under her with smug grace. "He managed to do just fine. I was there when it happened. I was the one who helped him get back on his feet and start his new life."

"Yes, but…" Leon leaned against his knees and stared at the floor. "That's the thing, Lara: He had _you_. We don't know where your friend is anymore and no one is going to track him down so that he can babysit you. If we took all of your memory, you would be left with nothing; you wouldn't know what kind of person you are, in the least. You wouldn't have anyone."

"I think I'd rather take the chance."

"What our mother and sister did was just as rare as your desire to leave – they volunteered to escort you somewhere safely away from here. And, after losing you and Lena and Mother all in one go… Having you back is a miracle! It's just been me and Father; and losing all of you changed him. I am his Second in name only; he still sees me as a child, but he does not let it seem so in front of the other townspeople."

"Why do you put up with it?"

"He's my _father_. And, whatever mistakes he might make, he's brought us through some hard times and he's a good leader."

"Except when it comes to people who want to roam free," she sighed, suddenly feeling more trapped than ever. She hadn't felt quite like this in a long time. She had been content in Kirkwall because her friends had respected her desire to not 'settle down' and since it had been her choice alone to stay. This… She had to resist the urge to just go on a destructive frenzy to try breaking out. Obviously, that wouldn't end well, being in a village filled with mages and fighters. Even if she did get out, the traps would be difficult to negotiate on her own.

Leon seemed to notice the despondency in her eyes as he studied her.

"You don't know how many times I wondered if you were all right or what you were doing. You were my hero – the way you could read any book set before you or take down an elk all by yourself or stand up to Father when he tried to convince you to be tested for magic again."

"He really thought I might be a mage?" There was a mix of wonder and horror in her voice.

Leon simply hummed an affirmation.

"You weren't, but he wanted another mage in the family."

"That wouldn't have gone over very well with Fenr…" She cut herself off, suddenly interested in her book. His eyebrows furrowed, but he remained silent. "Is there something you wanted to ask, Leon?"

"Any time you mention this 'Fenris', you get a strange look. Even during this conversation. Fenris was another slave of Danarius who escaped, but you look… I can't distinguish what your feelings are, and I consider myself a master of reading expressions."

"We were very close, and, for many years, he was all I had. We turned our backs on each other, and the only person I knew who cares now doesn't even know where I am."

"You have your family again."

"Some family," she scoffed. "In many ways, I've never felt so lonely."

"Lara, there was one other reason I came to talk to you." Her brother was looking more uncomfortable by the minute. "About an hour ago, one of our patrols caught a scout. He's being interrogated even as we speak, but he mentioned Danarius. I thought you'd like to see him."

Freyja's eyes went wide with horror.

"Danarius is dead."

The next words were slow in coming.

"His exact words were: Danarius' successor will have his inheritance."


End file.
